The Witch and the Warden
by Theevenger
Summary: When Morrigan leaves at the end of the game, there is no closure. What does that do to them? I had to finish their story it so that they got a better ending. Witch Hunt did not do that justice. This story is about them falling in love, losing each other, and what that does to both of them. If you ever romanced Morrigan, you should read this.
1. Prologue

_He watched in silence as she walked away. Every instinct told him to run after her, to beg if he had to, if only she would let him go with her, or even change her mind about leaving entirely and stay. But he did not. Her parting words still rang in his mind: "I am sorry, Aedan, but I just…I cannot. I cannot do it. I cannot take it. The confusion, the pain, you say you forgive me but I cannot forgive myself. I have to leave, and you will never see our child, or me, ever again." He said nothing as the woman he loved more than life itself cut his very soul to pieces with her words. But he knew he could not change how she felt. She loved him, and that was why she had to leave. _

_ He closed his eyes to shut in the tears as he bowed his head in, if not acceptance, at least understanding. She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and as she drew back, her lips parted as if she was going to say something. At the last moment, she changed her mind, because she also knew there really wasn't anything else she could say. Instead she just took in the handsome face of the man she loved, the man she was condemning to a lifetime of struggle between sleepless nights and heartbreaking dreams. _

_Her eyes drifted slowly from his face to his left hand, where he still wore the ring she had given him. To her knowledge, he had never taken it off since the moment she had given it to him so many months ago. But his eyes were still closed, so he didn't see it._

_She considered briefly the significance of that small band of gold. She hadn't quite understood why she had given it to him in the first place. At the time, she had told herself, and him, that it was a tracking ring so that she could locate him if he were taken by the enemy. He had made then an observation that still shook her to her core, that she might be linked to him just as surely as he was linked to her. He was right, and she was startled, not that she hadn't realized so before, but that she _had_, and had still given it to him. He had asked her, _"Could I use it to find you, as well?" _She hadn't known the answer then, and she still didn't know the answer now. _

_The Warden finally, stoically, opened his eyes again, having finally mastered the tears that were forming. He looked back and forth into her eyes, from the left one to the right and back again, so full of pain, confusion, and love at the same time. But he still did not speak. He still didn't know what to say. She began to draw away._

_Then, as if a dam had broken, he stepped forward and enveloped her fully in a hug with which he hoped he could convey everything he felt. It would have to do, because he lacked the words, and he would get no other chance. She was surprised, but after a moment she relaxed and hugged him back. It seemed she, too, wanted to show him what she could not tell him. As he held her, felt her pressing back against him, he knew it would never be enough. He made one last effort to gather the words that were eluding him. He knew he could not make her stay, but he could make sure she knew how he felt._

_He whispered to her then, "This changes nothing, Morrigan. I will love you until the day I die." After finally winning his battle to find his words, he instantly lost his war with his tears. Neither of them knew how long they held each other. It could have been just for a few seconds, but to each of them their embrace felt as though it had lasted just, unfortunately, short of forever. Finally, they broke their embrace, and as she turned to go, he whispered eleven more words: "We will hold each other again, Morrigan. This isn't the end." But since she was too busy fighting back her own tears, she did not hear him._

_He watched her as she walked away, until she was nearly out of view, hoping against hope that she would turn to look back. Just before she turned the corner in the path that would take her out of view, he could not bear it any longer. He turned away, and began first to sob, and then to weep openly for all to see. For all to see, that is, except for her, who was too far away to see the shaking of his great shoulders as he wept. Because she did, you see, look back. But because his back was already turned, he did not see it._


	2. Chapter 1: Morrigan Goes Off Alone

Morrigan despised their new companion. She refused even to speak her name, choosing instead to refer to her as "that girl" whenever she was forced to speak of her at all. She went over in her mind all the reasons she did not like her: Delusional Chantry follower. Cheery to the point of revulsion. Leliana. Ever since they had left Lothering, all she seemed to be able to do was tell everyone who would listen about how it must be part of the Maker's plan for her to be along on their adventure due to the timing of their arrival. Morrigan didn't think so. She just thought Leliana had caught a lucky break, and herself an unwelcome burden. Truly, no one had ever managed to grate on her nerves in quite such a way. At times she wanted to hit her with a lightning bolt when no one was looking. She'd just call it "a sign from the Maker".

Her other companions were better. The other newcomer, Sten, did not talk much, and that suited Morrigan fine. Alistair reeked of the same goody-goody stench Leliana did, but at least he seemed capable of gritting his teeth and keeping quiet every time they had to do something that didn't quite mesh with his moral views. The other Warden, Aedan, she actually liked. She found it curious that he was the leader of the group and not Alistair. Alistair was the senior Warden, neither of them denied that. And yet, Aedan called the shots. She'd prodded Alistair on the subject, half because she wanted to know the answer, and half because she enjoyed making trouble wherever she could. Her meddling was not satisfactorily rewarded. Alistair simply admitted that he preferred to follow, and as far as he was concerned Aedan seemed perfectly capable of leading, and both had left it at that. Slightly frustrated, she had moved on to observe Aedan, and after travelling with them the past few weeks, she agreed that he was a capable leader.

Morrigan was a loner and an outsider by nature, a product both of her upbringing and underlying nature. Even if she had grown up in normal human society, she still wouldn't have gotten along well with people, and would have always remained on the outskirts of the society she lived in. As such, she was not used to interacting with groups of people. When the party camped, Alistair and Aedan, and later Sten and Leliana too, laid out their bedrolls (or tents if it was cold or raining) near one another. Morrigan chose to sleep separated from the rest of the party by at least fifty yards. She built her own fire, and cooked her own food, neither offering to help with the camp duties, nor requesting anything from the others. Though she expected this to annoy them, she didn't do it for that reason. She just liked having her own space. If it caused the others discomfort, it would only be an added benefit.

Much to her consternation, it didn't appear to be having its desired effects. She had overheard the others talking about it, so they did notice it, but none of them had said anything about it to her. She had assumed that they continued to talk about her behind her back, and had quietly resented this, until she did some spying on the party to find out what they said about her outside her presence. It hadn't been hard. No one ever questioned her if she left camp alone, so she had simply done so and changed forms as soon as she was out of sight. She then calmly returned to camp as a bird, and sat on a branch within earshot of the rest of her companions. There she sat, and waited for them to say something about her.

She waited for quite some time. No one said anything about her for nearly an hour. Determined to feel justified in resenting them, Morrigan chose to curse them for not even noticing that she was gone. Surely they couldn't care a bit about her if she could leave camp for an hour, alone, without anyone making any effort to find out where she had gone, or if something had happened to her. Eventually, Sten began looking over towards her side of camp. At first, he appeared to only be keeping alert, looking around in every direction. As the minutes went by, however, she could see that he gave more looks in the direction of her fire than at the rest of his surroundings. This continued for another half an hour, and he gradually went from alert to wary, and then from wary to concerned, and finally from concerned to anxious.

"Where is the witch?" He eventually asked. Leliana didn't bother to respond. _I hated that girl anyway,_ she thought.

Alistair did look up, but only replied flippantly: "Probably in her tent, doing whatever it is witches do when they don't want to play nice with others. She never wanted company before, why are you asking questions now?"

Much to Morrigan's surprise, Aedan actually came to her defense.

"Leave her alone, Alistair. She more than pulls her weight every time we get into combat, and we're saving a bundle on healing salves now that she makes them for us. If she wants her space, that's fine, we'll respect her wishes." The others grumbled a bit, but seemed to respect his statement. His answer seemed sensible to her. She did indeed pull her weight, and was glad he acknowledged that, despite outwardly (and loudly) proclaiming not to give a damn about anything they did or didn't think about her.

Sten, however, would not leave it alone. "I do not think she is in her tent. I watched when she left. She has not returned."

Aedan put down his spoon and looked towards her side of camp.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. She has been gone for almost two hours now, and-"

"And it's getting dark," he completed Sten's statement. He nodded. "Right then, everyone get your gear on, we're going to go find out what's keeping her."

"What, now? Are you serious?" Alistair protested.

"Yes, right now! It might be nothing, but she might be in trouble. You may not like her, but she's one of the group, and that means we look after each other. I'd be doing the same if it were one of you. Now quit arguing and let's go!" He was already up, buckling his armor and strapping his swordbelt back on. Leliana and Alistair made one last face at Aedan, but they too began to get their gear together. Sten never took any of his gear off, ever, so he was already ready to go. Aedan ran over to check her tent while he waited restlessly for the others. Less than five minutes later, they were up and ready.

"Sten, you were right, she isn't here. Right then, Alistair, you take Leliana and head north 500 yards. Sweep the perimeter clockwise for about 200 degrees and meet back at camp. I'll take Sten and the dog and go south. If we don't find her, we'll discuss what to do then. And hurry, we've got less than 20 minutes of light left!" The others didn't argue.

Morrigan was not quite sure what she'd expected to happen, but it wasn't this. She'd pretty much confirmed what she had already suspected about how everyone felt about her. Sten didn't care personally about anyone, Alistair and Leliana didn't like her, and Aedan at least cared about her because she was a member of the group, although was beginning to suspect he might actually like her as a person too. Them forming a search party, however, she had never even considered. She thought about what she wanted to do.

She decided she had three choices: be found by Aedan and Sten, be found by Alistair and Leliana, or be back at camp when they converged after failing to locate her. The last option would be the most convenient for her, as she could make up any excuse she wanted about where she had been. But if she were to be found by Leliana and Alistair, it would be much more interesting. She decided she could stir up the most excitement that way. She took off from her branch, and flew west a couple hundred yards, looking for a good group of bushes she could pretend to be collecting herbs from when the others got there. She settled on a large clump of Elfroot. She wouldn't have to pretend; this was a very good deposit, and she could use the increased supply.

About ten minutes later, she heard the sound of splint mail clanking. She changed back into a bird and circled overhead unobtrusively to see where they were going. Once they'd moved out, Alistair and Leliana had been all business. Morrigan had to admit, they were moving well. Alistair was slowly (but still noisily) sweeping forward, and Leliana, still clad only in her Chantry robes, was nearly silent and invisible as she bounded from tree to tree and bush to bush, always remaining both aware of what was around her and close enough to Alistair to put an arrow in anything that might bother him. Morrigan decided to show off just a little bit. She flitted to a tree near where she knew Alistair's path would take him, and turned into a giant spider. As Alistair passed under her, she descended on a thread to surprise him from behind.

"Alistair! Behind you!" Leliana screamed. Alistair dropped to the ground.

Too late, Morrigan remembered that Leliana had ever seen her in this form, and probably thought Alistair was about to be attacked. She cut her thread, and dropped to the ground, preparing for the agonizing pain of a precision strike from Leliana's bow, all the while cursing herself. _Why did I have to go and be clever! Now I'm going to die, and _that girl_ is going to have the satisfaction of being the one to kill me. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Fortunately, Alistair had seen her in this form, and he realized both that it was her and that Leliana didn't know. He threw up his hands, and yelled: "Leliana! Don't! That's Morrigan!"

"What?! That, that _thing?!" _For a second, Morrigan thought she might shoot anyway. A similar thought crossed Leliana's mind. Slowly, however, she lowered her bow, and Morrigan changed back into human form with a swirl of green mist. She tried to salvage some of her dignity with snide remarks.

"Alistair, it would appear that _that girl_ doesn't know all the things I can do. Shall I show her?" Alistair only shook his head in frustrated annoyance.

"Morrigan, just shut up. We don't have time for this. We need to get back to camp."

Wisely, Morrigan did just that, and followed in heated silence as he led the way back. She was acutely aware of the fact that Leliana was behind her, and still hadn't unnocked her arrow. Before they'd made it a hundred yards, they heard the sound of Sten's plate mail and Aedan's dog crashing through the brush.

"This way! I think I hear them!" Sten yelled. Moments later, the dog burst out of the brush, followed by Sten, and headed right for Morrigan. He stopped short of tackling her, merely circling her at a distance of several feet and growling. Aedan appeared out of the shadows a moment later. Morrigan hadn't heard him make a single sound. He simply appeared, absent one moment, and there the next, daggers out and eyes alert. He looked relieved. That changed when he saw them standing there, relaxed and unhurt. Now he looked angry.

"Morrigan, are you alright?" He asked.

"Her? What about me!" Alistair joked. He got quiet immediately when he saw Aedan's face.

"I am fine. Why would I not be?" Morrigan ignored Alistair's remark. Aedan looked her over quickly, from head to foot, and, seeing no injuries, put his daggers away.

"Then would you care to explain why you've been away from camp for nearly two hours without telling anyone?

"I owe no explanations to you or anyone. But if you must know, I was gathering herbs. Now that I have to supply all of us by myself, my supplies are rather strained. Unless you'd prefer I let you all die of infection the next time you are wounded?" She looked around, daring anyone to challenge her version of events.

Leliana took the dare. "Are you mental, Morrigan? Never mind why you were out here, you had no reason to surprise us like you did. I almost put an arrow in you."

"Aedan, her excuse is a load of Mabari crap. Who goes out to gather herbs in the dark?" Alistair added.

"Alistair is right, Aedan, the witch has placed us all in danger," Sten agreed.

Aedan held up his hand, demanding silence. "Enough! This isn't the time or the place. We need to get back to camp. It's already dark, and we have enough troubles already without attracting more. I'll take point. Leliana, you cover the rear. I don't want to hear another word out of any of you until we get there." He snapped his fingers, and his dog stopped growling at Morrigan and ran to catch up to him. Grudgingly, his four companions fell in behind him. The march back to camp was short, uneventful, and tense.

When they arrived back at camp, Morrigan didn't say anything to anyone. Instead, she dropped her herb pouch off at the central fire and headed back to her tent. Alistair started to say something, but Aedan shook his head. "Let her go, Alistair. We're all safe now, and nothing more needs to be said about what just happened.

"I've got first watch. Alistair, I'll wake you in four hours for your shift. Everyone else get some sleep."

As everyone else got settled in, Aedan picked up the half-eaten bowl of stew from where he'd dropped it an hour earlier. He grimaced, and gave the rest to his dog. He considered briefly having his dog join him on patrol, but decided he'd rather be alone. Frustrated, he moved out to the perimeter and began circling.

_What am I going to do about this? Sten, Leliana, and Alistair get along fine with each other. It's just Morrigan who is causing such a problem. I won't send her away. We need her, and I don't think it's entirely her fault she isn't playing well with the others. They aren't being very accepting. That doesn't excuse her behavior, but it would be a failure on my part if I can't handle this. But how?_

Aedan circled for an hour or so, working out his tension. By then, Leliana was finished with her prayers, and everyone else was asleep by the fire. Aedan stopped by on his next orbit to put another log on the fire, which was dying down. On a hunch, he headed over to Morrigan's side of the camp. She was in her bedroll, and her fire was also dying down, but he didn't think she was asleep. He made one more orbit, thinking about what he intended to say. Then, when his patrol path brought him back towards her end of camp, he approached her. Her back was to him, but he was still fairly certain she was awake.

"Morrigan, are you still awake?" He asked softly. She jumped, startled. Aedan flinched inwardly, reminding himself that he needed to remember to make some noise when walking up behind people he didn't mean to surprise.

_Damn_, she thought, _no way he missed that. Oh well, if I cannot pretend to still be asleep, I suppose I will have to see what it is that he wants. To send me away, no doubt._ She rolled over to face him, and slowly began to climb out of her bedroll.

"Unless you insist on seeing me disrobed, Warden, might I ask that you turn around and let me put something on?" She said, hoping to put him on the defensive by embarrassing him.

"As you wish." He turned around, fully aware of the tactic she was using. _Damn_, he thought_, I hate this part._

Disappointed that he was not going away, Morrigan couldn't stall any longer. She rustled with her clothing, pretending to put something on. In truth, she'd been clothed already.

"Very well, Warden, you may turn around now. What is it that you want?"

"I want to talk to you, Morrigan." Morrigan. He always called her by her name. Never "witch" or "her".

"You are already talking to me. What is it?" Aedan winced inwardly at her tone, but did not let it show on his face. This was a time to show strength, not weakness, or else he wouldn't be able to prevent the clash of party dynamics that would follow if things went on unchecked.

"Why did you do this?"

"Do what, exactly?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"You know exactly what. You left camp without telling anyone where you were going. You were gone for hours, well past dark. When we went out to find you, you deliberately surprised us, and almost got an arrow in your gut for it."

She didn't say anything. Everything he said was true, so she just let him continue.

"I can only think of three reasons you did what you did. You're either stupid, careless, or are deliberately pushing our buttons. I know you're not stupid, so that just leaves careless and deliberately messing with us. Which is it?"

Morrigan didn't respond immediately. Again, she hoped he would simply go away. When several minutes passed by and he was still standing there, patiently waiting for her answer, she sneered and answered truthfully.

"I was testing you." Her answer seemed to confirm whatever it was he had been thinking. His jaw clenched briefly in anger, and he shook his head and turned away from her. After shaking his head for several seconds, he turned back around, his face angry.

"Morrigan, this has got to stop. You put all of us in danger tonight, yourself included. Unless you've forgotten, not only do we have an entire Blight on the loose, we've got half of Ferelden looking to get us taken out of the picture. That's a lot of enemies, and way too much of us wandering around in the dark split up. And that doesn't even include the showboating you did at the end with the dangling spider act. I'm telling you now, Morrigan, we don't have the time for this."

Morrigan stood, and raised her voice slightly. "So, what, you are asking me to leave? Is that it?" She did her best to sound superior. _Here it comes,_ she thought. _I'm about to be invited to leave. This is why I never spend time with others. _

Aedan blinked his eyes in surprise. "No, of course not. What gave you that idea?"

It was her turn to be surprised. "You are not?" Aedan shook his head, still confused.

"No, I'm not going to ask you to leave. You're part of this group, whether you or the others want to admit it. That means we'll come after you if you disappear from camp. But it also means you need to let us know where you're going! I don't want to hear about how you don't owe anyone anything. That's fine. You don't. I'll make sure that the group respects both your privacy and your desire for your own space. But in return, you will respect the safety of the group, and you will stop constantly going off on your own, putting us in danger. Is that clear?"

Morrigan was visibly shaken by his words. What he was saying made sense, and try as she might, she could not make herself believe that he was the bad guy. Everything he'd said was true, and he'd even waited for them to be alone before saying it to her. He wouldn't do that if he didn't respect her. She nodded her head, unable to meet his eyes.

Aedan uncrossed his arms and softened his tone considerably. "Come on, let's sit back down." Morrigan didn't really want to continue talking, but she sat down, and he did likewise. Instead of sitting opposite of her, so he'd be looking at her across the fire, he sat down next to her. This made her slightly uncomfortable, but she also understood in some vague way that it meant he was trying to show her this was a discussion, not a lecture. She didn't understand why, but it made her glad.

"I know I haven't paid you much attention since you joined us," he began.

"'Tis no concern of mine."

"No, hear me out," he insisted. "When you first joined Alistair and I, we talked a little bit. You told me about your past, growing up with Flemeth, and having only limited exposure to the rest of society. I only stopped talking to you because I noticed that you were taking every chance to distance yourself from the rest of us, and I thought I was making you uncomfortable by prying into your business."

"I see."

"I know you don't like being in a group."  
"How very perceptive of you."

"Please, Morrigan,I'm not trying to be combative."

She didn't answer for a moment. Finally, she nodded. "Sorry." And she did look it.

"If you want to make your camp separate from ours, that's fine. I already told the others that we'll respect that. But you have to start trusting us. Believe me, I know that's hard."

"Oh? Truly? Do you? What do you know of mistrust?" Aedan's face hardened slightly, and his eyes clouded as if he were experiencing an unpleasant memory.

"My entire family was murdered by a man I grew up calling 'Uncle'. He waited for my brother to leave for Ostagar with the army, then stormed our castle and killed everyone I ever met before the age of twenty. Is that good enough?"

Morrigan was taken aback for the second time that evening.

"You lived in a castle?"

"Until Arl Howe murdered everyone in my family besides my brother, who had already left for Ostagar, and me, who escaped, my family was one of the most powerful in Ferelden. Being that my older brother was at Ostagar too, and thus is most likely dead, once Arl Howe is brought to justice, all nobles, freeholders, and commoners north of the West Road will owe me fealty."

Morrigan was shocked. She had had no idea that the Warden was such an important figure. But it did explain much. Many men were used to issuing orders. But he carried the confidence of a man who was not only used to issuing them, but having them obeyed as well.

"See, that's why I didn't tell you this before. It's offputting, I know. And even if Arl Howe hadn't stolen my land, my castle, and my title, it still wouldn't mean a damn thing out here in the wilderness. I have no army at my back. Just four other misfits trying to survive this Blight, same as everyone else."

"Five misfits we may be, but I should hope we do more than survive this Blight."

"Point taken. We'll arrive in the Brecilian Forest soon, at any rate. Hopefully the elves will not have forgotten their treaties. And we're six. You didn't count my dog." He smiled slightly at the last, and Morrigan smiled too, in spite of herself.

"Very well, six then. Alright, Warden, I will attempt to play nice with the others."

"Good. Now, I told you I'd been avoiding you because I thought you wanted to be left alone. Do you want me to continue to do so, or can I start talking to you again?"

"You… may continue to converse with me, I suppose." She felt a tingle of excitement deep in her chest. He had made his point already, and didn't need to say anything else for the sake of the group. But he was still here, and he had just said that he'd like to continue to have these discussions with her. She didn't understand why, but she looked forward to it.

"I'm glad. You're an interesting and intelligent woman. And just between us, I need a break from the group now and again too." He got up to go. "Goodnight, Morrigan. I'll see you in the morning.

"You as well." He nodded once more at her, and turned to continue his patrol. She considered for a moment, and then called after him. "Warden, wait. When your shift is over, wake me up instead of Alistair. I think I could use his goodwill after tonight."

Aedan considered it for a moment. "Alright. I'll let him know he's off the hook for tonight. Are you sure about this? You're on rotation for tomorrow night too. Goodwill or not, two nights in a row on half sleep is rough."

"I will manage, but thank you for asking."

"Alright, if you're sure. I'll wake you up in a few hours. Get some sleep." As he left, he remembered to make at least a little bit of noise, at least until he was a polite distance away from Morrigan's camp. As she went to sleep, Morrigan mused to herself that it was impressive that Aedan had mastered the art of stealth so successfully that it took a conscious act on his part to make noise so as not to startle people by accident. _Impressive indeed…._

Aedan walked over to the main camp, but stayed quiet as not to wake anyone. He knelt by Alistair, and gently shook him. Like any good soldier who knows he has watch later that night, he woke without surprise, as he was expecting to be awoken. Mind you, that just meant he was alert, not happy.

"Maker's breath, is it my turn already?"

"No, Alistair, you've only been asleep an hour."

"Not that I don't enjoy looking at your face in the dark of night all intimate and everything, but what in the hell is it then?" He asked with false pleasantness.

"You're off the hook for your shift. Morrigan volunteered to take it. She said she felt bad about the scene she caused earlier."

Alistair sat up, completely awake now. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I talked to her. She says she'll try to play nice from now on."

"Wow. That's, well. Huh. Well great! I could use the sleep."

Aedan clapped him on the shoulder gently. "Seriously though, Alistair, I know you guys don't get along with her that well, but at least try to be accepting of her. She's trying."

"Yeah, alright. But only because you asked nicely."

"That's the spirit. I'll see you in the morning."

"'Night." He was asleep again before he even got the covers back in place. Aedan just shook his head and went back to patrolling.

When it came time to wake Morrigan, Aedan headed over to her fire, and was surprised to find her already up and dressed. He narrowed his eyes as he got closer.

"You never went back to sleep, did you?" He said when he got closer, half a smile beginning to form on his lips.

"No, I did not. Nor, as you pointed out, was I actually asleep before, either."

"Well, since you're already going to be tired and cranky, would you at least like some company?" _Screw it, it wouldn't be the first time I've traded sleep to spend time with a beautiful woman_.

"Yes, if you are offering, I will be accepting." Aedan watched in amusement as she finished the last buckle on her robes and picked up her staff from where it lay against a tree next to her bedroll. The robes she wore could hardly even be considered clothing, they covered so little of her. She wore them whether it was hot or cold, and even when it was raining. It seemed a bit silly to him, but he was not going to deny that she looked stunning in them. He supposed it must just be a mage thing. He was wrong, though. She did it because she knew she looked stunning in them.


	3. Chapter 2: Young Love

By the time they got up from the history lesson, Aedan had a headache. Racial tensions were the worst. Invariably, whatever transgressions one group had committed against the other were centuries old, but were never forgiven. He just didn't have the patience for it. As far as he was concerned, it just wasn't right to hold someone personally accountable for something his great-great-great-great grandfather did several hundred years ago. He shrugged. _Whatever. What do I know?_ He shook his head in disgust, and he nudged his head as a signal to the others that it was time to go. When he did, he noticed a young elven man sitting alone by himself. He looked quite sad about something. Curious, he decided to go find out what was wrong.

As he got closer, he realized that the elf was young indeed, probably not yet nineteen. Upon closer inspection, Aedan realized he wore not the full metal collar of a hunter, but the unadorned leather one of an apprentice. He had not passed his final trials of manhood. So he was more of a boy, really. Alistair was glaring at him, mouthing things like "I thought you said it was time to go," and "We don't have time for this." Morrigan was just rolling her eyes. It was true, this had not been the quick "We have a treaty we need you to honor" they had been expecting. And no, they didn't really have time for Aedan to go playing teen angst detective, as Leliana and Sten would already have been expecting them back at camp hours ago. Aedan ignored both of them. He wanted to help anyway. He remembered being nineteen, and he'd learned some things in the last seven years that he knew would have helped him then if he'd known them.

"What's your name, son?"

The elf jumped, startled. _Damn, forgot again_ Aedan thought. "Who are you! I mean, who are you?" He groaned, got up, and tried to start over. "I'm sorry, I am forgetting my manners. You are technically my senior, and after all you've agreed to help my people."

Aedan closed his eyes, shook his head, and extended his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Forget all that, I'm just Aedan."

"Aedan. Yes, alright." The elf nodded his head slowly. "My name is Cammen, apprentice hunter."

"Well, Cammen, apprentice hunter," Cammen winced slightly as Aedan used his title. _Aha, maybe that's it then._ "Your entire village is walking around like the world is ending, and you seem even sadder than any of them. What's eating you?"

"What, do you mean besides the werewolves?" Morrigan interjected helpfully with harsh sarcasm. Aedan frowned at her over his left shoulder, and gave Cammen an "ignore her" gesture.

"It's nothing, good sir—"

"Aedan. Just Aedan."

"Yes, s—Aedan. As I said, it's nothing. You wouldn't be interested."

Aedan could practically feel Morrigan mouthing _Yes, you're right, it wouldn't_,_ now let's go,_ to the back of his head. "Wouldn't be interested, or wouldn't understand?"

"Probably both. What could you possibly care about the troubles of an apprentice hunter?" The young elf groaned, " I'm no good to anyone, not even my own tribe, let alone this army you're trying to build to fight the darkspawn."

_Perhaps, perhaps not_, thought Aedan. _I wasn't much good to anyone at nineteen either. I needed time. Patience. A chance._

"Try me, Cammen. I'm not that much older than you, you know." Aedan did his best to look open and friendly. Cammen considered for a moment, and decided that Aedan was not trying to play a trick on him after all.

"It's about a girl," Cammen began slowly.

_Ahhhh, it all becomes so clear now! _"Go on."

"Gheyna. Her name is Gheyna. I've been in love with her since before I even became an apprentice hunter."

"So? Do something about it."

"Don't you see? I can't."

"Why?"

Cammen looked at him like he had just said something so ridiculous even a child would have understood it for idiocy.

"She will never accept a proposal from an apprentice hunter."

"I don't remember much of Dalish law, but I don't recall there being any formal restriction on an apprentice hunter marrying. Am I incorrect?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Does she love you?"

"Yes. I mean, at least I think so."

Aedan took a quick look around, and spotted a young elven girl, dressed in the garb of a full hunter, sitting at a fire across the clearing. She'd been sneaking glances at Cammen and him since he'd begun talking to him.

"Cammen, is that her, over there?" He gestured with his head and eyes, so as to not make it obvious.

"Yes, that is her. Gheyna." Cammen sighed. _This boy has it bad_, Aedan decided. As an unwelcome afterthought, _Almost as bad as you've got it for Morrigan, old boy._

"Cammen, you realize she hasn't stopped staring at you since we've been talking?"

"Really? Has she?" Aedan struggled not to laugh. Cammen's ears had literally perked up at the thought.

"Yes, really. Tell me, have you actually tried to court her?"

"Yes, of course!"

"What have you tried?"

"I talked to her. Last week. At the river. I said her name!" _This is going to be harder than I thought_, admitted Aedan to himself.

"I suppose, then, that it would be far too much to ask if you've bedded her?" He said in what he hoped was a neutral tone. Morrigan snorted behind him. _I guess she's listening, after all._ Cammen looked mortified.

"Oh, goodness, _no!_ Of course not!"

"Ok, forget I asked then. Look, have you actually tried wooing her? Like, given her something? Sung her a romantic love song by moonlight? Anything?"

"I did give her a necklace that I made for her. It was a carved antler in the shape of a hala."

"Did she like it?"

"I think so. She's wearing it right now."

"Alright, that's a good sign. But have you ever actually discussed the possibility of a proposal with her?"

"She turned me down."

"Because you were an apprentice?"

"Yes." Cammen's face fell.

"So what do you have to do to attain your formal manhood?"

"I have to kill a wolf, and bring back its pelt."

"You're in luck, Cammen, I know where there are a lot of wolves. Get your gear."

"Wait, I can't! I'm not allowed out of the village. Zathrain *check name, I forget elven leader dudes' name* has forbidden any of us to leave until the problem is dealt with."

Aedan frowned. _If the problems were easy, I'd never get to see them, I guess_._ I could give him a pelt. That would do it. But I think in the long run it would just hurt him. His manhood ritual is for him, not the village. I can't cheat him of that._ "Cammen, what if I talked to her for you?"

"Would you? Could you? I mean, what would you say?" _I have no idea_, thought Aedan.

"Trust me. I'm good at this kind of thing." Aedan could just imagine the look that must be on Alistair's face. He decided not to turn around and find out. "I'll go talk to her, Cammen. I'll get this sorted out."

Morrigan and Alistair fell in beside him as he crossed the clearing. Alistair had apparently decided that humor won out as his dominant reaction.

"Aedan, you're nuts, you know that? 'Trust me, I'm good at this kind of thing.' Ha!"

Morrigan, on the other hand, did not seem to be as amused: "Yes, good at this kind of thing, indeed. Really, now, Warden? Tell me, how many does it take for one to get 'good at that kind of thing?'"

"What's she getting at, Aedan?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all…" replied Morrigan with raised eyebrows.

_Definitely she's not happy about this. Oh well. I'll make a peace offering later, I already told the kid I'd help him._

"Is there something going on between you two..?"

"No," Aedan and Morrigan both responded in unison, and a little too quickly.

"Right then.." Alistair didn't look like he was buying it.

They continued across the clearing. Gheyna was a beautiful young girl, probably also nineteen. Her hair was a bright red unusual for the elves. She was indeed wearing the garb of a full hunter, and Aedan saw the telltale signs of armor that had seen use in combat. He began to understand why she would be reluctant to bond with Cammen.

"Are you Gheyna?" She looked up from what she was doing.

"Yes, I am. Who are you?" Her eyes were sharp with the challenge of a woman who had the martial prowess to handle herself, but had not yet learned the confidence of a warrior. She was no doubt trying to sound tough, but to Aedan she looked nervous.

"I'm Aedan. I came to talk to you about Cammen."

"Oh. You did? What about him?" she said defiantly.

"He asked me to talk to you."

"He did! I mean, he did?" Aedan couldn't tell for sure, but it did look like the thought excited her. Maybe there was hope for Cammen after all.

"Yes. What do you think of him?"

"What do you mean?" She asked suspiciously.

"I mean what do you think of him?"

"Well,

*At this point the dialogue in the game is more than sufficient. Aedan manages to talk Gheyna into bonding with Cammen.*

"Does anyone feel the urge to vomit? No? 'Tis just me?" Said Morrigan with a disgusted look on her face.

"Ignore her. I'm happy for you two," replied Aedan.

"Thank you, Aedan. You were right, we were being silly before." Gheyna took Cammen's hand and the two young lovers walked off.


	4. Chapter 3: Are You Trying to Impress Me?

"I hope you did not do that to impress me."

Aedan only smiled at Morrigan's accusation.

"Why? Are you impressed?"

"At what? The fact that you talked a young, impressionable elf girl into bonding with a useless excuse for a man simply because they loved each other? No, I certainly am not."

"I did not see the harm in it. But no, I didn't do it to impress you."

"Truly, then, you are either an evil man or a fool."

"Do you think I am an evil man?" Morrigan gave him an annoyed don't-be-stupid look.

"No. A fool." Aedan shrugged. People had called him worse before.

"Cammen loved her. She loved him. It seemed simple enough to me."

"Yes, yes, two teenaged elves _sure_ they are in love. Simple? 'Tis never simple. I think you filled both their heads with dangerous folly. What if Cammen never amounts to anything? Gheyna will be dragged down with him. She will be an object of mockery, her name and prospects tarnished. She knew this, and did the sensible thing, until _you," _she poked her finger into his chest for emphasis, "talked her out of it. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You're absolutely right. If Cammen does turn out to be a poor hunter, all those things will be true."

""You agree, then? You made a mistake?"

"I didn't say that. I meant what I told her. If Cammen turns out to be a bad hunter, it won't change the fact that she loves him. If she bonds with another, doubt will prick at her for the rest of her days. She would never be happy."

"True love, then. Yes, you are a fool indeed." Morrigan looked like she might actually vomit. Aedan chuckled.

"Let me put it in terms that might make more sense to you. Cammen has been trying to kill his wolf for almost two years now, without success. He knows that he cannot have Gheyna unless he does, so he tries ever harder. The more time goes by, the more he is aware of it, and the more pressing it becomes. With that kind of downward spiral of pressure, of course he still hasn't caught his wolf. He's got too much else going on, and he isn't able to concentrate. If that pressure is taken away, his training should be able to take over, and he'll be able to catch his wolf."

"You truly believe that having his woman support and accept him will make him a better fighter?" Aedan considered it, and nodded.

"Essentially, yes, I do."

"Oh? Are you a better fighter?" Morrigan asked with all the innocence of a venomous spider. Aedan could tell he would probably make her angry with his response, no matter what it was, so he decided to tease her.

"Are you saying you're my woman?"

"Oh, well played, Warden. Tell me truly, would you prefer if I were more supportive? Girlish? _Docile_?" She almost spat the last word. Aedan frowned at her, then looked around furtively to make sure they were alone.

*test, two responses. Which one do I like better?*

*This:"Does it look like I'm sleeping with Leliana?"*

*or this: "You know, you're right. I'm sleeping with the wrong woman. Where's Leliana?"

Morrigan could not help but laugh, which quickly chased the anger out of her eyes.

"Perhaps I was too quick to anger, Warden. You are correct. Perhaps you were not lying to Cammen after all. You are good at this sort of thing." Morrigan thought for a moment, and decided to continue to play hard to get. It was _so_ satisfying to see the Warden play along with her games. "Which leads me to another thought. Exactly how many girls does it take for one to get 'good at this sort of thing'?" She raised one eyebrow, and tilted her chin out at a slight angle in challenge. Aedan thought she looked sexy as hell when she did that. He was pretty sure she knew it.

"My dear witch, I thought you had no designs upon my freedom?"

"Indeed, I do not. 'Tis just a simple question."

_Maybe a dozen, Morrigan. But when I'm with you I feel like I know nothing, and am talking to a girl for the very first time._ But he couldn't say that to her. She'd take it for something false, a simple play to get close to her, because she didn't know it could be true, and not a simple trick. _You'll just have to keep playing her game, Aedan, and see if things change._ What else could he do?

"I think that the witch asks too many questions. I feel tired. Perhaps I will not give the witch her present." That did it. Morrigan changed tunes instantly and eagerly.

"Oh? And what present is that?"

"Doesn't matter, she does not want it."

"Warden, I will _melt_ you. Do you not believe that I could do it?"

"Oh, absolutely I do, but if you melted me you'd melt the present too." Aedan let her stew for a moment longer, and then relented. "Very well, here you are." He pulled something from his pack and gave it to her. It was a small, dark, wooden box. The lid was intricately carved in the likeness of an exotic flower. The clasp was in the shape of a Brecilian oak leaf. The work looked delicate. It was elven.

Morrigan dropped her air of flirtatious pretense. Aedan could tell that she liked it.

"Open it."

She did. Inside was a small vial, wrapped in ferns, stoppered with a tiny, elegant cork.

"'Tis certainly pretty. What is it?"

"Dragonflower extract. It's elven perfume." Morrigan's eyes got wide. Aedan could tell she was surprised. She closed the box, realizing she recognized the design on the front.

"I love dragonflowers. Aedan, I have never told anyone this. How is it that you knew of it?" _She actually used my name, and didn't just call me Warden. She must really like dragonflowers._

"I've seen you gather them. I was unaware of any alchemical application, but I'm not a proper herbalist, just a poison maker, so I wasn't sure. I didn't even know what they were called, so I took one of yours and showed it to the elven doctors. They told me its name, and that it had no useful properties at all, save that it was pretty and smelled sweet."

"And what, they just gave you this nice box and a vial of their purest perfume?"

Aedan smiled. It had not been as simple as that, no. It had taken him several hours to find a merchant in the outskirts who had some, and it had cost him almost his entire share of their last treasure haul .

"I'm an expert rogue, let us not dwell on where I source my acquisitions from." Aedan decided to change the subject. "Do you like it?"

Morrigan opened the bottle, and closed her eyes as she smelled the liquid. Her face relaxed, and she smiled. Aedan thought it was the most genuine smile he'd ever seen her wear. The mask she wore to show the world had disappeared, at least for an instant, and he thought he was looking at her real face, the one she refused to show because she thought it was weakness. Aedan didn't think it was weakness. He thought it was beautiful.

Morrigan opened her eyes, and reluctantly stoppered the bottle, put it back in its bed of leaves, and closed the box. She ran her fingers over the carving, as if trying to memorize the unfamiliar likeness of a familiar object.

"I told you about the mirror Flemeth destroyed, yes?"

"Yes, you did."

"On a second trip, when I was a little older, I went into an Orlesian perfume shop. On the top shelf, behind the counter, there was a box not unlike this one. It caught my eye, and I asked the shopkeeper to show it to me. He refused, until I gave him my best naïve smile. He got the box down for me, and allowed me to take one drop of the liquid on the back of my hand. I had never smelled perfume before, so I didn't know what was in fashion and what wasn't. Until I smelled the dragonflower extract, I thought perfume was gaudy, cheap, and ugly. But the smell of dragonflowers captivated me. I could not pay for the vial, of course, and the shopkeeper quickly became angry when he saw that I could not pay in coin, and was unwilling to pay by other means. He threw me out, leaving me with only the drop on my hand.

"I tried so hard to burn the memory of that scent into my mind, but it wore off within a day. I became an herbalist because I wanted to find that flower again. I am sure Flemeth would have demanded that I become one anyway, but I did it by choice for that flower. It took me years to find one. The fragrance from an individual flower is very faint. It takes almost a hundred of them, all fresh, to extract just one vial as large as this one. Try as I might, I could never find more than one at a time, and sometimes I would go months without finding any at all. I had to make do with just the tiny whiff of the scent that a single flower could provide.

"Thank you, Aedan. I will treasure this. Surely, you want something in return?" Slowly, her mask slid back into place.

Aedan gently closed her fingers over the box. "No, Morrigan, it is a gift. Please don't think I'm trying to buy my way into anything. I just wanted to do something special for you."

"I thank you then. I am not used to such… generosity." She really did look surprised. Aedan smiled, and took a step toward her.

"I know. That's why I did it." He ran his fingers gently through her hair.

"My dear Warden, I do believe you intend to kiss me."

Aedan didn't say anything in response. He simply kissed her.


	5. Chapter 4: Redcliffe

"Why are we wasting our time here? This has nothing to do with the Darkspawn!" she almost-yelled to his back, "Honestly, shall we begin rescuing kittens from trees, next?"

Aedan's jaw clenched briefly in annoyance, but he calmly closed his eyes, counted to three, and looked up from the map of the village he had laid out on a barrel top in front of him to study. He turned his head to the left so he was almost, but not quite, looking over his shoulder at her, and thought for a moment about his response. Morrigan was clearly angry at his decision to help the people of Redcliffe, feeling that it was a waste of time. Most people would have yelled at her in response, or at least chastised her harshly. Aedan knew Alistair certainly would have, had he been there instead of meeting with the Knight commander to discuss fortifications. She certainly would have deserved it. But Aedan was not most people, and he didn't. Most people also probably wouldn't have stayed to help Redcliffe, either.

To an observer who didn't know either of them, his lack of immediate response might have looked like indecision, or worse yet, weakness. But Morrigan did know him, and despite the fact that she couldn't have possibly disagreed with his decision more if she tried, and did in fact think the decision weakness, she was surprised at how much she did grudgingly respect him. She didn't understand how he thought, and why he was always going out of his way to help others without hope of reward. And worse, making her do the same! But the truly maddening thing about him was that he would never get sucked into an argument, yell at her, or voice the accusations that everyone else she had ever known made regarding her supposed selfishness.

Aedan thought for only a moment longer, and the corner of his mouth upturned in a slight smile that most people would have missed. But Morrigan, after all, wasn't most people, and knew him well enough to see it.

"Why do I get the feeling, Morrigan, that you didn't forget about the fact that we need to save Redcliffe if we are to secure the aid of Arl Eamon, which we do need, but are in fact angry about the fact that you know I'd have done the same thing if he didn't fit into the picture at all?"

He turned all the way around to face her and make eye contact as he finished. He could tell by her immediate and brief attempt to disagree before she stopped herself that he had guessed correctly at what she was thinking, and his smile widened a little bit, enough that it was visible to anyone who cared to look. His smile may have appeared mocking, but Morrigan knew it wasn't_. _

_Damn him, that smile was almost…loving! _ _And now I'm feeling that strange, uncomfortable, increasingly familiar feeling of, well, I don't really know what, but blast him! Why did he have to be so, so… disarmingly charming all the time!_ She wanted him to be mad at her, and argue!_ Instead, he always makes these annoying (but also flattering, damn him) intuitive leap as to what she was really thinking. What right did he have to do that, to know her well enough to? _But, he did know her that well, and she knew it. _Damn him._

He waited a moment, enjoying her reaction, and then got serious again. He looked around, briefly, at the crying children and their worried mothers, at the terrified militiamen, and at the flimsy barricades crafted out of desperation that weren't fooling any of them. He sighed, and his eyes for a faraway look for a moment.

_What does that look mean? He always does this, and I don't understand it! Just like he does when we're alone and he's talking about how he feels about me. It's like he _actually, really, truly_ does care. It doesn't make any sense! These people wouldn't do the same for him. They may not even remember him a month from now even if they survive, they'd be so caught up again in their petty little lives._

"I know they wouldn't," he said in response to her unspoken words (_damn him)_, "and no, they probably won't. And they will. Survive, I mean." He closed the few remaining steps between them and put his hands on her shoulders, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him. _Here it comes, the part where he looks at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters, and he says some stupid thing that isn't really any kind of explanation at all, expecting it to explain away everything and make me understand. _ "We all need help, sometimes, Morrigan."

And no, it wasn't much of an explanation. But somehow, on some level, it did explain everything to her, and she did catch glimpses of how he must think. He was not actually more than a fraction of an inch taller than her, but whenever they had moments like this he always felt like he was much taller to her. She knew she should have been angry at him, cursed him for making her feel small, but she wasn't and she didn't. He didn't do this to make her feel small. She didn't really understand why he did. It _seemed_ like he did this because he … trusted her? Like he was trying to gently show her that she was wrong, but that he wouldn't look down on her for it? It infuriated her, that he was so presumptious as to lecture, but it also touched her. Men didn't act this way. Well they did, but only so they could feel superior to her. He wasn't lecturing her. He wasn't even trying to teach her. And she knew, despite how convenient it was to think otherwise, that he didn't for a moment think he was superior to her. No, he acted like he did it because he wanted to share something with her. Something both intimate and important. _You're thinking in circles again, Morrigan_. But, for the life of her, she could think of no other explanation than that he was telling the truth when he said he cared about her, no matter what she did or how much she berated him for being too much of a soft-hearted fool.

He'd come even closer now, close enough to kiss her if he wanted, but he didn't. He just smiled into her eyes for a moment before speaking again. "Thank you, Morrigan."

"For what?" She tried to give the words her normal haughty edge, but her voice caught in annoyingly in her throat, and she knew she wasn't fooling anyone, even herself.

"For putting up with me." He'd drawn her all the way in now, and they were pressed together in a light embrace. She felt her pulse involuntarily quicken, and her breath caught in her chest .

"I hate it when you do that," she murmured, surrendering to the feelings she didn't understand and putting her head on his shoulder. He began to rock her back and forth slightly, almost as if they were dancing.

"I know you do," he replied.

They stood like that for a few moments longer, for what could have been an eternity (and to them, it was), before an amused voice interrupted. "If the two of you aren't busy, there is actually a village to defend here."

Neither of them made any indication that they had heard him, but Aedan did reply. "Mmmm. I don't know, Morrigan, what shall we tell Alistair? We seem pretty busy to me"

Her heart skipped a beat, but she had a reputation to maintain, and immediately broke away and put forth her best effort to display an angry face. "Oh, piss off. Go save your precious village, since it looks like we're going to waste this time no matter what I say." He chuckled, kissed her on the forehead, and with a knowing glace back at her, walked off with Alistair to survey the fortifications. Apparently her best effort hadn't been enough. _Damn him, _she thought.


	6. Chapter 5: Fade Affinity

Long ago Wynne had chosen the path of spirit healing over all the others. At heart she was a protector, and she felt somehow drawn to the healing arts over the destructive ones that Morrigan favored. It wasn't doing her any good now. She was losing them and she knew it. Morrigan and Leliana had already fallen, taken from behind by a Hurlock berserker who had managed to get behind the party without them realizing it. Wynne herself would have gone down too if it weren't for the timely intervention of Sten's huge warblade as it was making its way towards her.

Wynne did her best to shake off the fear of the close call and ignore Sten finishing off the Hurlock in order to concentrate on the task at hand. Alistair, Aedan, and Dog were trying to take on the angriest ogre they had ever faced. Right now the ogre had picked up Alistair and was thrashing him around like a ragdoll. It was all she could do to continue to channel enough energy into Alistair to keep his rib cage from collapsing under the crushing force of its grip. Aedan and his dog were doing a very good job of harassing the ogre, and by the look of the quick cuts Aedan had made in succession on the ogre's stomach it looked like they would succeed in getting it to drop Alistair at any moment. Dog was doing a number on his hamstring, too. But it hadn't let go of Alistair yet, and she was slipping.

Suddenly, Wynne heard Sten grunt in pain. She risked a look over her shoulder, and what she saw made her blood run cold for the second time in as many seconds. Sten had been tackled by three darkspawn, and they were systematically cutting away his armor to get at the soft flesh underneath. He had managed to squash the head of the fourth, but it was clear he wasn't going to last more than another moment or two, which would leave her alone and surrounded. She had to make a choice or die.

She chose to live. Only by sheer chance was Alistair not crushed immediately when she moved to bolster Sten instead, as the ogre decided it had had enough of trying to squash the gleaming knight in vain, and threw Alistair thirty feet through the air like a discarded bone before kicking the Mabari just as far in the other direction. Cursing herself for having to choose among which of her friends would die, Wynne couldn't stop herself from glancing at Alistair and Dog, each sprawled out on the ground. Neither of them were moving.

After all the energy she had expended in such a short time to keep Alistair from perishing, Wynne could keep Sten alive, but not conscious. He went limp, and the three Darkspawn turned to her.

Aedan's entire party lay dying around him, scattered among the bodies of the score of Darkspawn they had killed together, and he was exhausted to the point where he could no longer draw breath, let alone keep his blades moving. But the ogre he was fighting just wouldn't die, and it looked like Wynne was all alone with a trio of Darkspawn. He was doing his best to hold it together, and for the most part was managing to broadcast a fairly calm exterior.

Inside, he was panicking.

He struggled to stay focused on what was going on in front of him. Wynne probably had seconds to live if he couldn't get to her, but he couldn't help her until this ogre was dealt with, and he couldn't do either of those things if he was killed the next time the ogre swung his club. He dodged left and rolled hard, slicing out the right calf of the ogre as he came up. It was a clean hit, but the ogre still didn't go down. It didn't help that even its calf was still thicker than his dagger was long. The ogre did bellow in pain, but it only raised its club again to strike. Aedan had gambled his footing on the ogre going down from that cut, was now off balance, and was not going to be able to dodge the next strike. It was coming down on his head, hard, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Wynne made one final draw on untapped energy she didn't know she had left, and summoned a spiritual cage to hold the first of the remaining three Darkspawn before the other two were on her. She parried the first sword strike with her staff, thanking the Maker she hadn't lost her fingers in the process, and blasted his partner ten feet backwards with a stonefist spell in riposte. She'd bought herself ten, maybe twenty seconds before she would be surrounded again, but that still left her in single combat with a very large Hurlock berserker. It had halted its attacks on for an instant or two to evaluate his foe after both his companions were taken out of the fight. Apparently, it didn't relish being in single combat with a mage either. After a second or two, however, it changed its footwork and came back in at her.

Wynne was completely out of her depth in hand to hand fighting, and had only one offensive option left: a lightning bolt. It was a waste to use it on a single foe, as she couldn't lessen the energy she had to expend to form the spell that could easily down an entire squad of enemies, but she had no choice. She summoned, again, all the reserves she had left, and the hair on everyone within fifty yards stood up as the air began to crackle. The bolt burst forth from her staff, ionizing the air between her and her target, and it too was thrown back; the only movement it made when it landed was to twitch and shake. Unfortunately, the one she had blasted with the stone fist was now getting up, and the other was beginning to realize that if it kept at it it could eventually shatter the spiritual cage holding it back.

This time, Wynne really was out of options, and could do nothing more than risk losing consciousness in order to channel enough energy into herself to cast one last spell to try to hold off the wounds she was about to receive long enough for Aedan to get to her.

At the last second, rather than try in vain to dodge again, which from this position would most likely dislocate his knee, or at least sprain his ankle, Aedan risked a high cross-parry and did his best to absorb the impact with his legs as the club came crashing down. The impact nearly broke his blades, and, judging by the cracking sound and white hot agony, did break his left arm. Truly desperate now, Aedan focused everything he had on getting his footing fixed so he wouldn't be there when the next blow hit. He was not going to be able to block another one.

By the Maker's grace, he was able to lean almost out of the way of the follow on strike, and he only caught the tip of one of the spikes on his shoulder. Excruciating, fiery pain shot down his already ruined arm, and he knew he was a dead man. He put everything into his next movement, and bellowing a war cry he had not known he was capable of producing, he dove into the attack.

And suddenly, something inside him…. clicked. He felt nothing now but the movement of his blades and his footwork, as he dodged in and out of the ogre's reach, ducking low and cutting high to sever the ogre's bicep. With a double sweep that felt like it would break his bad arm clean off, he managed to eviscerate the ogre, who now clutched at his belly with the remaining arm it could still control, but in his trance he did not even register the splat of the blood and ichor on his body or the putrid stench of its entrails. In fact, he didn't register anything at all, any more. Not the pain in his arm, his shoulder, his legs, or even the fact that all of his friends might already be dead. He was nothing but the movement of his blades, a whirling cyclone of pointed death, and he wasn't stopping until the last Darkspawn within sight was doing nothing more than leaking its polluting blood into the already blighted earth.

The darkspawn she had stone fisted was now up close with her, and she knew its partner would shatter her cage at any moment. She had no magic left to put between herself and the monsters, and she was not a trained fighter. She blocked clumsily with her staff, but succeeded only in having it knocked from her hands. With not even that piece of wood to put between herself and her foes now, she threw up her hands in a futile gesture of protection as it ran her through with its blade. Wynne collapsed to the ground, her vision growing dark, as the darkspawn moved on to deal with Aedan.

He practically _climbed_ his way up the ogre's body in order to slit its throat before it even hit the ground as it finally collapsed from the wounds it had received. That done, he realized, in some vague way, that there was something else left to do. He heard a woman screaming, but that wasn't what concerned him right now. What was it? The shattering of Wynne's spiritual cage finally brought him back to the present. He still didn't know what that annoying, high-pitched yelling was all about (in his dreamlike state, he had forgotten Wynne completely), but he had noticed that there were still Darkspawn that breathed.

Wynne had just enough left in her to keep herself from expiring on the field right there, but it wasn't enough to let her do anything more than watch impotently as Aedan moved to fight alone. She briefly considered giving up, but she was a stubborn woman, and even if she could no longer influence this fight, she was unwilling to just die peacefully. Even if that meant she'd be fully conscious a minute from now when, probably finished with Aedan, the Darkspawn would finish her off. _Maker's will, may it only be quick._

Aedan felt wonderful. Not a trace of pain remained; his heart thundering in his chest and his pulse pounding in his ears had never made him feel more alive. Each breath felt like being born, over and over again. His legs moved on their own, as if he didn't even have to power them with his own energy, and he closed the remaining few feet to his last two foes effortlessly. The ease with which he moved caught the first one off guard, and, his timing perfect, his momentum carried his blades into its neck and clear through to the other side, decapitating it easily. The last darkspawn finally managed to smash its way out of its cage to face him, but he was ready for it. With a feral grin, he dove into combat with the last foe.

She had never seen Aedan move like this before. He was a skilled fighter, a killer even, but he had never seemed to… enjoy the act this much that she could remember. She had never seen him like this. He looked, well, possessed. Like some other power was moving through him, accelerating him to inhuman speeds, and pushing him past human limits of pain tolerance and physical endurance. She had heard his bones crack when he tried to block that blow even from here, and yet he showed no evidence that he was damaged at all, or even in pain. She watched in awe as he executed a twelve-cut combination followed by a leg sweep on the last combatant, and closed her eyes when he cut its throat with a cross rip. She opened them again a moment later, afraid what she might see. She saw him standing there, looking at nothing, breathing heavily. She tried to speak his name.

"Aedan?" He didn't seem to notice her, so she tried again, this time with more force: "Aedan! Aedan, listen to me! It's over." She struggled to her hands and knees, and began to crawl towards him. She had to bring him out of this, or, well, she didn't know what. But every instinct told her that this wasn't natural and that he needed her help. She eventually was able to stand, and walked carefully over to him, clutching an arm to her stomach wound. He was still panting, and didn't appear to even see her. Cautiously, she reached out and touched his arm. "Aedan? Are you in there?"

He jerked, violently, and for an instant she thought he was going to run her through too, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw a surprised glimmer of recognition, and he began to come out of it.

"What, where am I? Are we dead? Oh, Maker, what happened?" He looked around in panic, as if he had woken from a nightmare to realize he'd been sleepwalking. She suspected that he might have been, in a sense. He began looking around wildly until he found Morrigan, lying unconscious and lifeless, possibly dead. He ran to her, still ignoring Wynne. He was relieved to find that she was still bleeding. Bleeding badly, but bleeding. That meant that her heart was still beating, at least for now. Finally acknowledging Wynne, the look of desperation in his eyes said it all. Wynne refocused herself for a moment, and then nodded in amazement to Aedan. The Witch was going to live.

Hours later, Wynne twitched her lips in deep thought. She had been thinking all day about what had happened that morning, and when they made camp she decided to talk to Aedan once she could catch him alone. It took some time, as he stayed with Morrigan until late that night. She had apparently gotten over her need to protect her reputation as a heartless shrew after she realized how much pain she was in, and how much Aedan seemed to want to make her comfortable. Now she was more than happy to let him attend to her every need, but even Wynne had to admit to herself that she did look genuinely grateful for his concern. She certainly wasn't faking the pain she was in, at least.

Morrigan's wounds had actually been the most severe, even compared to Wynne's own. Wynne had indeed been run through, but she'd had healing energy going to the wound even before the blade was withdrawn. Amazingly, Alistair only had a concussion, and Dog had woken up an hour after the fight, shaken himself, and seemed none the worse for wear after that. Sten woke up minutes after the fight, having apparently only passed out because the Darkspawn had cut off his air supply by sitting on him, and that blockage was removed as soon as it moved on to fight Wynne. Leliana had lost a lot of blood, but the cuts themselves were fairly simple to heal, and she would make a full recovery by morning with magical aid.

Morrigan, however, had a dislocated shoulder, a severed quad, a shattered elbow, a cracked skull, and had lost 90% of the blood in her body. She had not awoken until hours after the fight was over, and Wynne was still unsure why she had lived at all. With magic, she would of course be able to recover fully, but it might take days, or even weeks. Perhaps, she thought, it had something to do with what she needed to talk to Aedan about.

She finally caught him on his way to his own tent. She guessed he wasn't returning to sleep, but to get another blanket for Morrigan. He was probably going to sleep by her side, or, more likely, was going to sit up the entire night with her, the poor devoted fool. Wynne doubted it deep down, but she sincerely hoped that Morrigan would one day appreciate, or at least understand, just how much the Warden truly cared about her. She didn't for a moment think Morrigan would ever return it, at least not to the level he did, but she was an old woman and had learned long ago never to say never.

"Aedan, I need to talk to you about what happened this morning."

"Wynne… yes, I know, but can it wait? I need to get Morrigan another blanket." He looked anxious, and Wynne relented, but only briefly.

"Yes, you can give her the blanket first, but this is important. I mean it." She grabbed his arm and did her best to look severely dire, in a motherly way. Aedan looked at her for a moment, and, deciding that she meant it, he nodded and hurried away. He was back within five minutes.

"Ok, she is sleeping again, so I guess she doesn't really need me right now. What's wrong?"

"This morning, I saw your body broken before my eyes, and yet I saw you take on an ogre in single combat, then move thirty yards to save me from a pair of darkspawn."

"I…don't understand. Are you saying you would have preferred I had let us all die?"

"No, that isn't what I mean and you know it," she snapped. Then, apologetically: "I'm sorry, Aedan, I didn't mean to snap at you. I certainly don't wish that you'd let us all die. But at the same time, I'm worried about what happened to you that allowed you to do it. To save us, I mean."

Aedan was young, but he had enough wisdom to understand that having a favorable result did not automatically make something harmless or good. He had privately been worried a little bit by what happened too, and Wynne seemed to understand these things. He decided to listen to what she had to say.

"Aedan, I think that you unknowingly tapped into the Fade this morning, and were somehow able to draw power from it."  
"I thought only Mages could do that."

"That's both correct and not. Mages have the unique ability to navigate the Fade, and yes, to draw power from it. Power both good and bad. What you did this morning could have been nothing else. Your body shouldn't have been able to get you through that fight, but you emerged from the engagement without a scratch on you, even though we both saw you nearly get smashed. I heard your bones break, Aedan." Aedan looked slightly uncomfortable, but he was trying not to show it. Still, Wynne could tell that she'd hit on something.

"I don't understand what happened with that either, Wynne. Believe me, I _felt_ those bones break. But I couldn't feel better than I did after that fight. I felt healthier than I had in weeks, with the constant battles and elusive sleep."

"I suspect, Aedan, that you have what is known as 'Fade Affinity'. Simply put, you are not a normal man, but also not a Mage. You fall somewhere in between. You are able to draw on the power of the Fade, and obviously to navigate within it, like a Mage does, but you yourself are not a bridge like a true Mage is. If you were, I could sense it. Morrigan could too, but I don't know whether or not she would have mentioned it-"

Aedan's crossed arms and glare cut her off short.

Wynne threw her hands up in surrender. "Ok, ok, I won't go there. But my point remains. You're certainly not a Mage, but you do appear to have an affinity for the Fade. I don't know what exactly this means for you, in terms of power and vulnerability."

"Vulnerability? Hold it, you mean like how Mages have to be careful not to bridge the wrong spirit and get possessed?"

Wynne had to hand it to him, he caught on quickly. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. This morning you _were_ touched by something, and I don't know whether it was good or bad."

"But I wasn't actually possessed, right? I mean, I snapped out of it once it was over, with your help." This time Aedan was unable to hide the raw terror in his eyes at the thought.

"No, you weren't. More like channeling it. You allowed it to cross over partially, and to share your body briefly, giving you additional power, endurance, and apparently some healing abilities. I suspect that that is what saved Morrigan's life. She would have died without my help hours ago, but she wouldn't have lived through those first minutes if you hadn't been there pouring life energy into her."

"It sounds to me like this must not be an evil spirit then, right? Demons don't usually do this sort of thing that I've heard, and you said yourself that not all Fade spirits are evil, right?"

"You're more right than you know about that last part, my dear," Wynne said softly, as if she were more familiar with the subject than she let on. "No, they are not all evil. And I don't think the one that took an interest in you this morning was, either. All I'm saying is that you need to be aware of this, and to be careful. But this isn't all grim news. You saw this morning that great good can come from such an ability. If you want, I can help you to understand it, possibly even to control it. If you decide you want no part of this power, I can at least show you enough to keep yourself safe and to keep it from activating if you don't want it to."

"I… thank you for your offer. I'd like some time to think about this. I certainly would like to learn enough to keep it turned off, just to keep me safe. I can decide later if I want to pursue further skill in order to control it and use it as a tool. Thank you, Wynne. I am glad that you are here with us. There is a lot in this world that I don't know how to deal with, and I really appreciate your help."

"It is not a problem at all, dear. And after all, I owe you not just my own life, but the lives of everyone I hold dear. I am more than happy to help you and your friends in any way I can. Go now, be with Morrigan. I can tell you from experience that even a cold one like her," (she ignored his glare) "can't help but feel touched if she wakes up in the middle of the night in pain and you're right there with her, already taking care of whatever she needs."

"I know you don't approve, Wynne," Aedan replied with a frown, misinterpreting Wynne's remark as sarcasm, "but I do ask that you accept how I feel about her. I don't know if she ever will, or if she is even capable of feeling the same way I do about her, but I care past the point where it would bother me if she doesn't. I care about her because I care about her. Not because I desperately hope that she cares about me back."

_Even though I know you do hope just that very thing, child, I still believe what you say is true_. "I do, Aedan. Whether I feel you make a mistake with her or not, it is your decision and I will support you in it. Just be careful, whatever you do."

"Thank you Wynne, I will. Goodnight." His tone was still guarded, but the temporary ire he had felt had passed, and he seemed grateful.

"Goodnight, dear," Wynne replied, and gave him a warm smile that only old women seemed to know how to master.

Both of them walked back to where they were before: Wynne to her tent, and Aedan to Morrigan's. Both had much to think on.


	7. Chapter 6: That Boy Loves You, Morrigan

Several days had passed since the fight with the Ogre and Wynne's discussion with Aedan. Even with healing magic, Morrigan's wounds were severe. In many cases, injuries could be healed as the patient watched, but with cases as severe as hers, about all the magic could do was to keep them from getting infected. The body itself still had to do most of the work. Still, all things considered, Morrigan's wounds were healing nicely. After all, in all reality, they should have killed her outright.

After her discussion with Aedan about her suspicions of his Fade affinity, Wynne had thought quite a bit about it. She had never before heard of someone suddenly coming into power at such a late age, and it didn't seem at all like Aedan had suddenly become a mage. It was as she had told him: he seemed to merely have an affinity for it. Then again, she had never heard of anyone else being lent life force from a fade spirit before, either. Her own condition proved that strange things did indeed happen. What she did know was the effect Morrigan had on the Warden. When she had first seen Aedan, she sensed great power in him, as well as conviction, sensitivity, and even empathy. Like all mages, Wynne could read auras. With training, she suspected Aedan would be able to as well, but there would be time for that later. Even without training, his energy was affected by those around him unlike any she had witnessed before. An aura wasn't something that could be seen visually; it could only be felt. But, if one knew what to look for, it could be read as easily as if it were seen with the naked eye.

Around Alistair, Aedan's aura showed comfort, trust, and perhaps even brotherhood. With Sten, it was cautious respect. Leliana lifted his spirits, and Dog made him instantly lose all tension and forget his cares for a few minutes. With Wynne, it was a genuine respect, the kind a dutiful son might feel towards his mother (and the deeply repressed unbidden annoyance felt by the same), mixed with quiet concern.

But with Morrigan, his aura was incredibly complicated. Wynne could tell when he was thinking about her, even without her mystical abilities. Her woman's intuition picked up on _that_ just fine without magical aid. Normally, Aedan was methodical. He was not a planner or a strategist at heart, but she supposed that came with their situation. Everything was just too fluid, the unknowns too expansive, for long-term planning to be worth the effort. But whether he was selecting a campsite, executing a dagger thrust, or putting on his boots, he did not do anything without purpose. To describe him as plodding would be inconsiderate, as it wouldn't give him proper credit. She supposed that if pressed, she would describe him as both confident and thorough.

When he was thinking about Morrigan, all that seemed to mean nothing. It was true that a man as graceful as he could never be clumsy, but he did get flustered, even if in his case that only meant he could juggle a mere ten daggers at a time instead of his usual twenty. With her, all his confidence and assuredness went right out the window. He hid it well, and she doubted he even knew it. She was positive that Morrigan had never noticed it. Morrigan had many talents, but empathy was not one of them. She simply didn't have the experience with human emotion required to read other people. It was unlikely that she even understood her own feelings, and even Wynne, who disapproved so strongly of her relationship to the Warden, knew that Morrigan did in fact have feelings just like anyone else.

So, Wynne knew that Aedan was telling the truth about how he felt about Morrigan, even without the ability to read his aura. But since she could, she did. And when he was thinking about her, his energy radiated confusion, uncertainty, care, and pain. In short, the purest love Wynne had ever witnessed. At times, she doubted that even he, as introspective as he was, truly understood how far he would go to protect her. That worried her deeply, but she had been young once, and she remembered what that was like. Nothing anyone said would change his mind, and she knew from painful experience that pushing someone when, right or wrong, they refused to listen, even if they respected your insight, led only to disaster. So, she did what she did best: worry, like all mother figures do.

Like it or not, Aedan was in love. Wynne had not yet decided whether she thought Morrigan loved him back, or even whether she was capable of it, but Wynne really did believe him when he told her he would love her even if it brought him nothing but pain. The more she thought about it, a nagging suspicion grew. Was it possible, perhaps, that the spirits of the fade were aiding him because of this love? It seemed ridiculous, she knew, but she was hardly in a position to decree that anything was impossible. But, being that not all fade spirits were evil, many quite benevolent, it did not seem out of the realm of possibility. Morrigan should have died that day on the field, but she hadn't, and it had nothing to do with Wynne. She'd been completely tapped out, and Morrigan had been unconscious, and wasn't really that good at the healing arts anyway. Clearly, the Witch had not bolstered her own wounds with magic. Unlikely as it might be, Wynne believed that Morrigan had lived because of Aedan. She knew that a mother (which is what she was to Aedan, her with the lack of any sons, and him with a lack of mother) meddling in the love life of her son normally led only to trouble, but she decided to speak to Morrigan anyway.

Under the guise of checking on her patient, Wynne got up and moved to a spot closer to Morrigan's tent. She would have to wait for Aedan to leave her alone, and she realized she might actually have to wait a while for that. Surprisingly, she found Morrigan alone, and, glancing around, she realized that Aedan was busy cooking, and would probably be indisposed for a while longer. She took her chance and approached the tent.

"Morrigan, dear, are you awake?" Wynne called, and waited for a response.

"Yes, what is it?" Morrigan responded coldly.

"I need to check on your wounds. May I come in?"

"I suppose, if you must. I am certainly in no position to stop you."

Wynne decided that was as much of an invitation she was likely to get, so she opened the flap and stepped inside. The annoyance she felt towards Morrigan's attitude lessened somewhat when she saw Morrigan, and realized that she must be in enormous pain. She doubted that she would have been any more pleasant had she been feeling well, but Wynne did have a big heart, and took pity.

She sat down, and carefully began checking the wounds. The bones appeared to have healed already, but the cuts were not healing quickly. They were not infected, which was good, and they were not healing slowly, either. In short, Morrigan would be fine. She might not even have scars.

"How do you feel?" She asked, feeling her forehead and carefully beginning to change the bandages. Even with her big heart, she still felt a sick sense of amusement as Morrigan winced with each movement.

"I feel like I got my bones smashed, my flesh cut open, and should be dead. How do you expect me to feel?"

Wynne ignored her tone, and looked at her carefully.

"I actually want to talk to you about that."

"Oh, truly?" Morrigan replied, sarcastically, "Please, do tell. Was it not as bad as all that? Or, maybe you are here to tell me that I really should be dead, and owe my life to some 'divine miracle' or some other such nonsense?"

Wynne couldn't resist. She had to tease Morrigan, at least a little.

"Actually, in a manner of speaking, yes. I am."

"Oh, spare me old woman, I have heard enough of that from Leliana."

Wynne decided she had to get serious now, or leave. She chose to stay.

"No, Morrigan, I'm going to talk to you about this. And, as you so eloquently put it a moment ago, you are in no position to stop me, so we're going to talk."

"Discuss away, then." Morrigan rolled her eyes and made a big gesture out of shrugging as if accepting the inevitable. Wynne softened her expression, but only a little. She still didn't like Morrigan.

"I want to talk to you about Aedan."

"What does the Warden have to do with you?"

"Nothing. I'm here to discuss what he has to do with you."

Morrigan sat up again. Judging by her expression, it caused her considerable pain to do so. If she was at all taken aback, she did not show it. Wynne took petty satisfaction in her discomfort.

"What the Warden has to do with me is none of your business, Wynne," she said coldly.

"Perhaps not, but I'm going to say what I came to say, and you're going to hear me out. That boy loves you, Morrigan. I don't know how you feel about him, or what you're even capable of feeling about him, but you need to understand that, whether or not you ever return his feelings."

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to understand? That he is smitten? Weak-kneed? Perhaps even malleable?"

"No, Morrigan, I'm sure you know those things already. And yes, I _do_ think you're a heartless shrew, and if it were up to me I wouldn't let you within a hundred miles of that boy. But it isn't, and I'm not here to talk about that."

Now Morrigan _was_ taken aback. She'd suspected Wynne was going to say something like that, but she had expected her to confront her about how she was a bad influence on the Warden and should go away. She had certainly not expected this, which, despite how it was couched, did indeed amount to a verbal acceptance of her relationship with the Warden. _How odd_, she thought. Curiosity got the better of her.

"What, then, am I to understand?"

"I know you do not understand love, that you don't even believe in it."

"You are right, I do not. 'Tis a sham perpetrated by self-serving or foolish men in the pursuit of either naive fantasies or selfish desires. Get to the point."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I'll leave that discussion to the poets. I have lived long enough to see both sides of love. In some cases, you are right. But what I saw the other day convinced me that in this case, at least, you could not be more wrong."

Quietly, in a place in her heart Morrigan did not realize that she had, Wynne's words were reaching her, but she did not yet understand it, even if she had wanted to. But, she did choose to listen, rather than make further snide remarks. Perhaps, deep down, she really did want it to be true. Confused and angry, Morrigan began cursing Wynne in her head. But she could not shut out the words Wynne was speaking.

"How long have you traveled with him, witch?"

"Several months. Why?"  
"In that time, have you ever seen him scared? And I don't mean worried. I mean truly, completely, utterly scared?"

She thought about it, and could not recall a single instance. It was one of the many things she liked about the Warden. He showed no weakness.

"No, I have not."

"Nor had I, until that day with the Ogre."

"What, he finally met his match, and it scared him? Oh, he is such a unique specimen, that one." _Perhaps Wynne has nothing to say of importance after all_, she thought.

"No, it was after that. Even in the face of certain death, he fought valiantly and without fear. The raw terror I saw came after that. When he saw you."

Morrigan's heart skipped a beat. _She cannot possibly mean…could she? _Before she could get a hold of her emotions, she blurted out her question:

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when he saw you lying there, dying, perhaps already dead."

_So she really did mean! _

"So he saw all his friends cut down around him, fought off an Ogre by himself, then half a dozen Darkspawn, and wasn't scared until he saw me, lying there dying? You have got to be joking."

"No, Morrigan, I am not. The only time I have ever seen our Warden truly scared was in that moment, when the thought he was going to lose you. I believe that he cared strongly enough that he was actually able to save your life with his energy alone."

_Now Wynne must truly be mad_.

"Aedan is no mage, Wynne. Your brain is addled by lyrium. What you speak of is impossible."

Wynne smiled to herself. _Nothing is impossible, Morrigan. I know that now._

"True, he is not. But I think even you will admit that I know more about the healing arts than you, and what I saw that afternoon was your life energy bleeding away almost to nothing, and as soon as he got near you, saw what had happened, and he took your hand, you came back. You should have died, and the only reason you didn't is because he loves you, Morrigan."

Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Wynne had nothing more to say, and Morrigan could not think of any response to give. If what she said was true, she was certainly grateful, as she did not wish to be dead, but it meant that she had to end this before it got out of hand. She was surprised at how much that thought hurt her, and that confused her even more.

Finally, Wynne broke the silence.

"Just think about what I said, dear. I will not give you my approval, but I am willing to accept reality. I suggest you do the same. I will change your bandages again in the morning."

With that, Wynne was gone, leaving Morrigan to her thoughts.

_Damn her, things were going so well! Why did she have to bring this up now? If that really was how strongly Aedan feels about me, it ruined everything! I cannot let this continue. It has gotten too far out of hand already._

Morrigan spent the next several days steeling herself for the conversation that had to come. When she was fully healed, she would approach him, but she would wait until then. She wanted to tell herself it made more sense that way, but she was really just avoiding doing it because she did not want to. The truth of the matter is that she was beginning to realize that she _did_ return his feelings, and that thought scared her more than anything. She had seen what love could do to people, how it could drive them mad, to do destructive things. And that was only when the involved parties weren't kidding themselves. More often, they were deluding themselves, and it was all a wishful fantasy at best, and a deliberate misdirection at its worst.

Realizing how she really felt about the Warden made what she had to do seem simultaneously both clear and muddied. On the one hand, this changed everything, crossed a line, went into places she swore she'd never allow things to go. It was dangerous, it was complicated, it was foolish. On the other hand… on the other hand, it made her ache inside to think of ending it. She did not want to. She might not be able to. She felt that this was her last chance, that she had to make a decision now, one way or the other. She was right about that, but she couldn't decide what hers was. In the end, she convinced herself that the responsible thing would be to discuss it with him. In the back of her mind, though, even she knew that she took the coward's way out. In the end, leaving it to him amounted to the same thing as deciding continue, for he would never want to end it and she knew it.

The little lies we all tell ourselves are how we get through the day.


	8. Chapter 7: Your Opinion of Love

It was nearly a week before she could work up the nerve to discuss it with him. She tried to tell herself she wanted to recover from her injuries first, so she didn't appear weak, but she knew she was just delaying to delay. They had begun moving again, even though she still was not fully recovered. Even Alistair had wanted to wait longer, but she made it quite clear she did not need coddled. She was regretting that now, as it hurt to stand, let alone march, but she'd insisted, and now she had to live with it. At least she had allowed Aedan to talk her into carrying her pack for her. She was feeling more and more guilty about all the things he did for her, but she didn't say anything. Even if she had been able to work up the courage, she just wasn't capable of carrying the thing herself yet.

When they stopped to refill their waterskins, she approached him, and was determined to have her discussion. When she reached him, he looked her over carefully and spoke before she could work up the nerve.

"How are you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected. That is to say, I am willing to reconsider my previous condition regarding being coddled."

He smiled at that.

"Don't worry about it. But, just so you know, the pack _is_ heavy," he teased, "but seriously, I know full well that you don't want to admit that you aren't invincible, and I'll help you cover it until you're done recovering."

_Damn. And I can't even justify getting mad at him, convenient as it might be. He isn't trying to treat me like I'm made of porcelain. He knows I'm able to take care of myself, but he asks anyway. It's just as well, right now I really _do_ need the help._

Before she could say anything else, they finished filling their skins and it was time to move on.

That night, she pitched her tent even further from the main group than usual. She wanted everyone to think she was back to normal, and except for Wynne, who knew full well she wasn't recovered but was more than happy to let her suffer, and Aedan, who she didn't have to ask not to say anything, they did, and left her alone. Aedan had sensed that she wanted to pitch her own tent, even though it took her nearly an hour and when she was finished she couldn't even sit up the pain was so severe. When she didn't show up for dinner (nobody ever expected her to help with the cooking), everyone figured she was back to her usual antisocial self. In truth, she simply didn't have the strength to walk over to the main campsite, and was too stubborn to ask for help. She was getting ready to go to an irritable sleep when Aedan knocked gently on the doorpost.

"What is it?" she asked grumpily, and immediately regretted her tone. He had done nothing to deserve her malice, but she didn't feel like playing nice. Everything simply hurt too much for that.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes. Yes, come on in." She almost apologized for her abrupt manner a moment earlier, but she didn't. He entered quietly, and closed the flap behind him before bringing her a bowl of something hot that smelled delicious.

"I brought you some stew. I didn't contradict the others when they said you must be back to your usual antisocial self, but I thought that you still might be hungry."

"I…thank you. You did not have to do this."

"I know." He set the bowl down carefully and, ignoring her feeble protests, began to check her wounds. They had stopped having to bandage them, but she still was not even close to fully healed. "Well, you may feel like Mabari crap, but at least you didn't reopen any of your wounds with your misguided stoicism. Eat up, Leliana outdid herself tonight." He sat back down beside her and passed her the bowl.

Morrigan's dark thoughts were temporarily dispelled by his tenderness. She accepted the bowl and spoon, and carefully tasted it. For all she knew, if it had come from Leliana, it might be poisoned. After the first bite, however, she ceased caring about that, or even manners, and began to inhale the hot liquid. _ That girl really can cook_, she thought. _At least if it is poisoned I won't die hungry_. She was hungrier than she realized, and forgot everything else for a few quick minutes as she devoured the rich stew. She got down to the last couple of spoonfuls quickly, and was slightly surprised that Aedan was still there, though she supposed she shouldn't have been, as he hadn't moved since he'd handed her the bowl. He simply sat there, watching her distractedly. Morrigan took her time with the last bite, trying to decide what she'd do when she finished.

Finally, unable to stall any longer, she finished with the bowl and handed it back to Aedan, who took it and, with one last caring glance, got up to go. Before she realized what she was doing, she stopped him.

"Wait."

He stopped and turned back towards her.

"Yes?"

She lost her nerve again.

"Nothing, nevermind."

He cocked his head slightly, and looked back and forth between her eyes like he did when he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. After a moment, he nodded his head and turned to go again.

"No, not nevermind. Aedan, I…could you…stay, for a little while?" She asked awkwardly. _For goodness' sake, you're 24 years old and one of the most powerful mages in all of Ferelden! Why are you getting so worked up over talking to a man you've been sleeping with for months?_

He smiled that half smile he reserved for her alone, and sat back down.

"Sure."

_I don't even know why I asked him to stay. I need to talk to him, but that isn't why I asked him to stay. I…I feel like I just want his company. That is insane! It serves no reason, no purpose! I am _right_, this is a weakness that needs purged._

He put his arm around her, and she felt like she'd never get this over and done with. Summoning all her courage, she removed his arm as gently as she could so as not to upset him. _There, right there! Why do you care what he thinks? Why are you modifying your behavior to accommodate him?_

"Aedan, I want to ask you something."

"Ask away." His heart quickened involuntarily. He had waited for so long in hope that she would finally open up to him, but he was so scared that she would end up clamming up forever instead. Instinctively (and correctly), he understood that what they said next would change everything forever.

Morrigan held her breath before she continued.

"I want to ask your opinion," She had to force the rest of the words: "Of love."

Aedan was terrified now. He had waited for this moment for months, thought about it, dreamed about it. Now that it was here, he didn't know what to do.

"What do you mean?"

Over time, Aedan had gradually picked up on some of Morrigan's mannerisms. It had taken him some time to catch on, but once he had, it had become easier to understand her. For instance, when she was nervous, she rubbed the first and second finger of each hand against the other. She was doing so now.

"Well, you and I have been… imtimate, for one. We have been…" she paused, trying to choose the right word, "close… for some time now. You are impressive, in many ways, and you even protected me from Flemeth without hope of reward."

Aedan remained silent. He could tell she was still trying to get to what she really meant to say, and so he simply waited for her to finish.

"I feel anxious when I look upon you."

_Ah, there it is. Oh, Maker, how do I try to explain that this is normal to her, when she has never had a relationship, even a friendship, with another human being before? How do I explain that I feel this way too, but that it is natural, even desirable?_

She continued: "I dislike this sense of dependency! 'Tis a weakness I abhor. If this is 'love', I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same."

She finished the last with such vehemence that Aedan didn't really know what to say. On the one hand, he did feel the same, and he wanted to tell her that yes, he did love her. But if he did, would it be too much, too soon? Would he just scare her away, perhaps for good? He knew Morrigan well. Better, even, than she wanted him to. Instead of giving her an answer, which she may or may not have wanted in the first place, he did what she loved to do: he deflected, and with such a question that he hoped she couldn't help but be disarmed. He was very careful that it didn't sound like he was teasing her. He could tell that this was very hard for her to talk about, and that if she thought for even a moment that he was playing with her feelings, it would shatter the moment permanently. She had been serious with him, and, even though he was unashamedly avoiding her question, so was he.

"Are you saying that you love me?"

_Damn him! There is no fooling him, he sees right through me. _She was getting frustrated now. This wasn't going as she had planned at all.

"No, that's… that's not what I'm saying. You need to pay attention!"

_I am,_ he thought, _more closely than she can possibly know. And just as sure as I just deflected her question, she just tried to deflect mine. She loves me!_

She seemed to recover from her momentary lapse of self control.

"What I am saying is that I have been foolish. I have allowed myself to become…" she closed her eyes, as if what she were saying were painful, and sighed before continuing, "too close. This is a weakness."

_She said it with such certainty,_ he thought. _She really has never felt this before. How do I tell her? That it isn't? That even if it is, it's worth it? _He answered his own question: _I can't. I can only show her, and hope she doesn't push me away._

"Love is not a weakness." He said it as honestly and with as much certainty as he could, as if he were dying, and had only one chance to convince someone that with his parting words he spoke the truth.

"You are not listening to me. Do not be such a fool!" She yelled as if she were angry, but she wasn't. She was only frustrated, because she knew that he was never going to agree to end it for his own good, and because she knew, deep down, that she didn't want him to. Still, she had come this far, and she had to see this through, even if it wouldn't make a difference. She had to lie to herself, at least, to believe that she had done all she could to do the right thing, even if it wasn't what she wanted.

"Aedan, this is for your own good. I would not… I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction." She paused again, unable to speak the rest of the words, for they were a lie: "And you are not worth mine." _There, I have said it. Let it be ended, this strange thing which has come over us. May I long for him no more!_

But she would not get her wish. Just as she had forced herself to try to do what she thought was right, Aedan would not give up now. He knew that if he did, it would haunt him to the end of his days.  
"You are worth my distraction."

She sighed in acceptance.

"I… you are impossible. Have it your way. But I will tell you truly, now, you will regret it, in the end."

Morrigan was filled with conflicting emotions. The first was dread, which she understood well. She thought that it was dread of the dangerous condition she thought they were continuing, but it was really the natural dread and fear that comes with moving forward in any relationship. The uncertainty, the suspense. Yes, dread she knew well, but she had never known it like this. The second emotion was joy at the same. Doubts remained, but for now, at least, she could shove them into the corner, able to tell herself that it was not her fault; she had done all she could. As long as she believed that, then whatever happened in the end was not her doing, and she could enjoy whatever exactly it was she was about to embark on.

He put his arm back around her, and she fought him, but only for show and only for an instant. Then she stopped pretending, and dove into his arms, burying her face in his chest. He smelled of woodsmoke and sweat. _A manly smell. His smell._ She breathed it in for a few moments, and put her arms around him, too.

He tucked the errant strand of hair that always, always, seemed to cover her eye over her ear, and then used that as an excuse to stroke her hair gently. Despite the fact that they had spent the last several months in the woods, her hair never smelled of anything but girl. _Morrigan smell_, he thought. He breathed it in gently, content.

Aedan had not missed her warning, that she might be more than she seemed, or less, but Aedan was far too gone to back out now. He loved her, and she loved him. They'd all but said it.

He had to rectify that last part.

"And yes, Morrigan, I do love you," he whispered quietly into her ear. He said it without fear, even though his heart thundered in terror. It needn't have. She only smiled into his tunic where her face was buried, and then he was smiling too.

"You stupid, silly, man," she whispered, quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. And then, quietly enough that she thought he wouldn't hear her, even though he did, "and I love you too."

They held each other then, until Morrigan fell asleep. Aedan gently lowered her into a lying down position, and decided that it was ok for him to stay. In the past, they had never spent the night together, but he sensed that things were different now. He fell asleep with his arm around her, with just enough space between his face and her head that he could breathe but still smell the scent of her hair.

Only once during the night did Morrigan awaken, and she was startled, but then pleased, when she discovered his arm still around her. He had been right. Things had changed. Where before she might have felt annoyed or crowded, she now only smiled and went back to sleep.

From the fade, the spirits looked on curiously as a pair of human spirits slowly entwined.


	9. Chapter 8: The Next Morning

The next morning, Morrigan expected to wake again to her doubts and her fears. She expected to feel regret for what had happened the night before, and to push all the silly notions of loving the Warden out of her head. It had been a mistake, what she'd allowed to happen, and it had to be corrected. She rolled over to face him, her mind made up to do what she'd been too cowardly to do the night before.

But when her eyes adjusted to the light, she found him still sleeping. That gave her pause. He looked so peaceful, so happy. _Can I really do this to him, after what happened last night?_ Instead of acting on her intentions, she just watched him. _I meant what I said last night_, she thought. _This really is a bad idea. But I also said that I love him, and I think he heard me_. _He didn't talk me into that. I told him the truth_. Morrigan cursed herself a hundred times, both for allowing herself to develop these feelings in the first place, and for not having the courage to deal with them properly. _Flemeth must not have beaten this lesson into me as thoroughly as we thought_, she mused bitterly.

Still, even though she was absolutely certain in her mind that no good could possibly come from this, even her self-loathing admitted at its core that what she felt towards the Warden was what it was, and she knew that she wasn't going to do anything about it. Despite everything Flemeth had taught her, despite everything she'd learned at the hands of the lewd pigs that had awaited her every time she had risked visiting civilization, and despite all her protests that it wasn't true, she was in love with him and there was nothing she could do about it. It bothered her, but it also didn't. She was horribly confused.

Her thoughts were disrupted and replaced with panic as Aedan began to stir. How should she act? What was customary? What was he expecting? What was _she_ expecting?

His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked several times, and she saw a brief look of confusion in his eyes as he awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. Unexpectedly, it made her sad. _I don't want my tent to be an unfamiliar place for him to wake anymore,_ she realized. Once he remembered where he was, he smiled, and his eyes drifted over to her.

"Good morning, you," he said. He stretched, and she wondered if he realized how much it showed off his muscles when he did that. _Well, if you happened to fall into a trap you spent your entire life being warned to avoid, at least you picked a good looking specimen_, she thought to herself.

Aedan sat up, and picked up the bowl he had given Morrigan the night before. He'd been sleeping on it, which explained the pain in his back.

"I guess Leliana will be wanting that back," Morrigan murmered.

"Probably." A look of amusement crossed his face. "You know, I don't think Alistair will believe me."

Morrigan turned her head to the side and cocked her head slightly in suspicion. "About what?"

"That we actually spent our first whole night together and nothing happened."

_He was smiling, damn him!_ Morrigan turned bright red.

"You will not tell him!" She seethed.

"You're right, I will tell him we had passionate sex all night long. That will injure his sensibilities less than the truth, don't you agree?"

"Yes, yes, very funny." Aedan ducked as she threw his jacket at him.

"By the way, I do think that you look beautiful even in the morning before you've left your tent. You know, bed hair and all."

Morrigan couldn't help but smile to herself at his flattery. She had only experienced one morning-after, and that had been the reason she'd never stayed in his tent, or allowed him to stay in hers. This wasn't like that at all. This, this was nice. He smiled back at her, and kissed her on the forehead. Then he threw the blankets off them, and proceeded to put on his boots and weapons. Morrigan watched him dress for a moment, and enjoyed the normalcy she felt despite her trepidations. "How do you feel this morning?" He asked as he buckled his dagger straps in place.

"Actually, I feel a lot better this morning," she said with some surprise, "I think I may be fully recovered within the week."

"That's good to hear. I mean it though, I won't say another word once we leave this tent, but if you feel like you're pushing too hard, all you have to do is tell us. All of us are going to get to play the part of the injured one before this journey is over. No one will judge you."

Morrigan nodded. She didn't think she'd need help, but she did appreciate the sentiment. "Anyway, come on, let's go wake up the others. There's breakfast to be had and Darkspawn to be killed," he said to her over his shoulder as he untied the tent flap and stepped out into the morning.

"Well now, it appears she _doesn't_ eat the male afterwards." Aedan's smile disappeared and he turned bright red when he found Alistair standing just outside their tent holding out a pair of steaming coffee cups. When Alistair saw Morrigan's embarrassed look, he simply laughed, passed the cups to Aedan, and went off to join the rest of the party. Aedan wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a disappointed Leliana pass Alistair some coin. _Maker's Breath, they actually placed bets?_ He shrugged and handed one of the cups to Morrigan.

"Well, I guess we slept in a little later than we thought."

"'Twould appear so." Morrigan avoided having to say anything further by taking a very deep interest in her cup. Aedan chuckled lightly, squeezed her hand gently, and moved off to go begin his rounds.

First up was a conversation with Sten. He'd had last watch, and Aedan wanted to know if anything had happened during the night. He picked up another cup from Alistair, delivered the bowl to Leliana, and went off to find Sten. He found him still at his post, standing rigid as a sign post. Sten was nothing if not vigilant. Aedan made sure to make plenty of noise as he approached. Surprising Sten while he was on watch was not something he wanted to do twice. Last time he'd almost lost his arm.

Sten turned around when he heard Aedan. He nodded as he accepted the cup, but did not say anything in thanks. He wasn't much for saying thank you. In fact, he wasn't much for saying anything. Aedan was surprised when Sten broke the silence.

"I approve."

Aedan blinked in surprise. "Of what?"

"The witch. She was questioning your dominance by refusing to let you sleep in her tent. You have remedied the situation."

Aedan was a little bit annoyed now. He wasn't exactly surprised that the entire camp had already had time to talk about his latest exploits with Morrigan, but he didn't like anyone acting like she was his property. She wasn't, and he wouldn't have respected her if she'd behaved like she were.

"She does not owe me anything, Sten. This is Ferelden. And even if it weren't, she is my equal, and it is entirely her own business whether she wants me to stay the whole night or not. I respect her, and you will do the same." Sten just shrugged, his piece said, and turned back towards the perimeter. He did that sometimes. It was very hard to tell if you had actually offended him, or whether he just didn't have anything further to say. This time, Aedan didn't really care.

The rest of his checks took his mind off his disagreement with Sten. No one reported anything amiss from the night before, breakfast was almost ready, and everyone was mostly packed. They would be ready to move within the hour. With nothing important left to do, Aedan made his way to the fire where Wynne was chasing Dog away from the bacon she was cooking. Alistair was happily munching on his, and handed Aedan a plate when he sat down.

"So, you and Morrigan, having more than just sexual adventures now, huh?" Alistair was grinning from ear to ear. For one of the manliest warriors Aedan had ever met, he was always amazed at how much of a girl he was when it came to gossip. It worked for him, though.

"Not now, Alistair. It's… private."

"Ooo, someone's in love. Is it mutual?"

"Seriously, I don't want to talk about it!" Alistair's face fell.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, mate, you don't need to get all in a bunch over it."

Aedan munched his bacon for a moment before offering an explanation. Alistair was his friend, and it was completely reasonable for him to be asking questions and teasing him.

"I'm sorry. I'm just trying to be respectful of Morrigan's feelings, you know? This is about her too, and I don't want to throw her business out there." Alistair nodded in understanding. Aedan could tell, however, that he was still burning with curiosity. He looked around and leaned in conspiratorially. "If you want the full details, I'll tell you on watch tonight. It's our turn."

"Now that's more like it!" They grinned at each other like brothers. Alistair was finished with his food, so he got up to go finish packing. Aedan had never really unpacked his gear in the first place, so he volunteered to help Wynne with the dishes once he was done with his food. Too late, he realized that Wynne would probably have something motherly to say. His last conversation with her about Morrigan had not been one where she told him how much she approved of his choice.

"Well, Wynne, you're going to say something anyway, so why don't I just bring it up now?"

"Why, whatever do you mean dear?"

"Oh, come off it. We both know you know I didn't even pitch my own tent last night and that you have some opinion on that."

"I do. I am surprised."

_Well, that's better than disapproval, I guess_.

"Why?" he asked, with soap up to his elbows.

"I know that you've been with each other before. Frequently. And yet, you have never actually spent the night together. And now you have. I think it means something, and I am surprised."

"What exactly do you think it means?" Despite his attempts to pretend he didn't want to hear what Wynne had to say about Morrigan, he did want to hear what she had to say, just like he always did when his mother was scolding him as a boy.

"What do _you_ think it means?"

Aedan wrinkled his nose_. What kind of an answer was that?_

"Progress, I hope. Last night, all we did was sleep. I don't think she's ever trusted anyone enough to let them see her vulnerable before."

"Perhaps I was wrong about her, Warden. Perhaps she can feel, after all."

"She makes me happy, Wynne. I've never been happy before. Content, yes. But never happy."

"It goes against all my instincts, Aedan, but if you're certain, then the only advice I can give you is don't ever let her go. It won't always be easy. If you mean what you say, that you love her, you will have to be prepared to make sacrifices for that love. Are you prepared to do that?"

Aedan thought about it. His heart screamed yes, but he did need to think this through. But the more he did, the more he realized that he was. He had only known Morrigan a few months, and he had met her at what should have been the worst time in his life, with his family dead, his title stolen, his kingdom on the brink of civil war, and a Darkspawn Blight bearing down on them all. But it wasn't. This had been the best few months of his life, and it was largely due to her.

"Yes. I am."

"Then so be it. You've made your choice, Aedan. You can only be patient as she makes hers. She has had a rough life, and the two of you have a long road ahead of you. I think you are right, that this is progress, but just remember that as different and confusing as it is to you, it is a hundred times more so for her. She has never known a man who did not want to use her, and has never known a human being that she could call friend.

"But don't fret. I am old, and sensitive to such things. And though she is conflicted, I can tell you that she cares for you, perhaps more than she realizes. Time will tell all things."

They didn't say anything more before the dishes were done, the equipment was packed, and it was time to head out. Morrigan shook her head in answer to Aedan's unasked question. She would be carrying her own gear today. Wynne picked up on this and filed it away as further proof that the Warden could indeed heal Morrigan's body with love alone. With that, they bid goodbye to their campsite and marched off into the morning.


	10. Chapter 9: Is the Warden Seducible?

"This is all kind of weird, don't you think?" Said Alistair.

Aedan shrugged his shoulders and shook his head in a gesture of confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"_This_," he gestured around him at the accommodations, "I mean the servants, the castle, the squires. It's not like we're exactly used to this, you know?"

Aedan smiled slightly.

"Actually, I kind of am."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, right, noble of Higheaver, and all that," Alistair murmered, "I guess you would, be, at that. Well, it's new to me at least. I'm just not sure I'm comfortable with all of it."

"What, the servants?" Aedan asked in surprise, "trust me, don't. They wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they were anything else." Seeing Alistair's look of shock at his arrogant statement, he softened a little bit. "I do know what you mean, though. Especially after the last few months. I don't mean the camping. I mean that we were all more or less equal in each other's eyes. "

"Except Morrigan's, we all looked equally inferior in hers," Alistair added helpfully.

Aedan began to exclaim in protest, but thought better of it. "Yeah, I'll concede that point. I love her anyway".

"Oh, better can it, here she comes."

Unfortunately, Morrigan had either heard enough, or knew them well enough to know they were talking about her.

"What, talking about me again, I see? Hmmm. Let me guess. Alistair said I was an evil shrew and the Warden offered a half-hearted defense at best? Am I right?" She had her hands on her hips, and an eyebrow raised in inquiry. Her words were an accusation, of course, but even Alistair had learned by now that the expression she wore was not malicious. "Well, as long as you added the last part, Aedan, I forgive you both." She slid comfortably into his arms at the last and they shared a slightly mushy but tender kiss. They were even mercifully quick about it, for Alistair's sake.

"Do you really know us," Aedan paused, and reconsidered, "me, that well?"

"Well, yes, but I _can_ shapeshift, you know. And let me tell you, eavesdropping is a lot easier when you have bat ears," she grinned.

"Meh, evil witch, always cheats," Alistair murmured good naturedly. "Anyway, let's do this thing properly, shall we?"

"Indeed," his friend replied, "Barkeep! More ale!" He shouted, holding his mug high in the air.

"Truly? This is how civilized men behave as soon as they are behind safe walls?" Morrigan commented in mock disbelief and reproach, "Honestly, now I know for certain that mother was right after all. Men are all pigs. Every last one of them."

"Even me?" Asked Aedan innocently. Morrigan poked him on the tip of his nose.

"_Especially_ you," she retorted with eyes open wide to emphasize her mock-sternness. It was clear she was in a playful mood, and even Alistair could tell.

"Oh, brother. Come on, Aedan, we're seriously behind. Let's get drinking! You, too, Morrigan. Pull up a mug!"

"I…think not. No. No, I really don't think that's such a good-"

"Oh, come on! Didn't you spend all that time telling us when the three of us first met how you wanted to see the world and experience it and all that? Now's the perfect time!"

Morrigan considered what he was saying. He _was_ right, she _had_ wanted to experience the world, and not just the places in it. She felt herself giving in. "I..suppose I could have… _one_ drink… surely?"

Aedan was loving every minute of it. She was in a playful mood, indeed.

Of course, none of them stopped after one, and it was hours before good sense finally kicked in. Which meant, of course, that the bar closed, and they all had to leave. As usual, Aedan was relatively unaffected by the alcohol, but Alistair was clearly reeling. He could hardly stand, let alone walk. Morrigan, despite her most sincere intentions to limit herself to one drink, and then two, and maybe just three or four, was not in much better shape, but she faked it well. She had to keep up appearances, after all. They deposited Alistair in his room, and Morrigan waited outside while Aedan helped him remove his boots and shirt, then managed to get him at least mostly in bed before leaving him to sleep it off.

When Aedan turned around after closing the door gently behind him, he jumped in surprise at Morrigan's proximity. He was, for all intents and purposes, pinned against the wall by her body.

"So this is what 'drunk' feels like, hmmm?" I don't feel impaired in the least. What about you, Warden? Think your spear can still find its mark?" She purred suggestively, and then lightly grazed his nose with her teeth.

_Playful, indeed_, he thought.

"My dear swamp witch, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Possibly. Why? Is this Warden… seducible?" She cocked her head both coyly and innocently, and thus erotically as hell.

Aedan looked rapidly back and forth from her left eye to her right, trying to eternalize this moment for the rest of his life, before replying with a soft and drawn out "Yes." He leaned in to kiss her, and she was deliciously pliant in his arms.

"So, are we going to do this with you pressed against Alistair's door, or shall we go find one of our rooms?" He asked her when they paused for air. Her hair was already a mess, and his belt had magically become unbuckled.

She didn't reply for a moment. After a few seconds, Aedan broke the silence: "Is something wrong?"

"What? No, not at all." She narrowed her eyes hungrily. "I'm just trying to decide."

"Vixen." He nuzzled her neck some more. "Come on, Alistair is going to have enough of a headache in the morning without nightmares to boot. Whose room is closer?"

She relented with a disappointed sigh, and Aedan realized she really had been willing to do it right there, literally on Alistair's doorstep. She allowed herself to be led down the hall to his room, where she shoved Aedan in impatiently and bolted the door behind her. When she turned around, she took on an air of mock severity once more.

"My dear Warden, why are your clothes still on?"

He crossed the room quickly and took hold of her forcefully yet gently and began hungrily undoing what few fasteners there were on the revealing robes she liked to wear. She'd have to visit the tailor in the morning. Playful was fun. Tenderness and softness would come later, when they had exhausted themselves. At least he hoped so. They continued kissing and necking for a while, occasionally getting words in between breaths.

"I love you, Morrigan."

"Don't, Aedan, not tonight."

Aedan stopped kissing her neck, disappointed.

"No, Morrigan, I do."

"I know you do, and I love you too." _Oh my God, I can't believe I/she actually just said that!_ each of them thought. Morrigan covered her shock better than Aedan.

"You do?!"

_Damn. _She was regretting her indiscretion already. _Damn all the brewers in the world_, she cursed to herself, _damn damn damn_.

"..Yes. I do. But, just.. just not tonight. Please, Aedan. Please. I need this." He didn't really understand what she was asking for, but he went along with it anyway.

"Ok."

The moment passed, and they both remembered what they'd been doing before the interruption.

"Good. Now that that's settled, where were we? I do believe the Warden had just caught a dangerous apostate in his quarters, come to cast a spell on him. But it looks like he caught her, and now she's at his mercy. What, my dear Warden, will she ever do now?"

"If she's a good girl and does as she's told, he won't tell anyone her secret."

"Oh? And whatever will he tell her to do?"

"Oh," he said, with a devilish look in his eye, "you know."

She smiled and went to him.

"Mmm. Yes."

In the end, it turned out that drunkenness did not, in fact, hamper the Warden's abilities with his spear.

Hours later, exhausted, the two slept. Both of them dreamed.

Morrigan dreamed of her mother, now dead, at least for now. She dreamed that her mother was chasing her, shouting strings of curses after her, about destiny and inevitability. About a certain plan they'd had, and about a certain conflict that had been building in Morrigan for a long time now without her realizing it. Disturbed by these unhappy dreams, she trembled and murmured in her sleep.

Aedan dreamed of a castle, and himself sobbing violently with his back to the gate to the outside. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Morrigan in his dream, too. She was disappearing into the distance.

The two of them might not have realized it even if they had glimpsed what the other had seen, but to the spirits of the fade, it was clear as day that the dreams of the two were completely intwined, as was the rest of their energy.

Aedan awoke from his unhappy dream, and felt the relief of air to a drowning man when he felt her there, warm against him, even before he had opened his eyes. She was still there. He held her close for several minutes until three teardrops leaked from his eyes, then kissed her gently on the back of the head and lay awake watching her for some minutes. He loved her. He was terrified of losing her. He had been overjoyed when she'd admitted to him that she loved him, and he believed her. He had already forgotten that she shied away from it immediately. But he did fear, and he understood now what Morrigan had tried to tell him when she told him she wanted him to end it because the dependency between them could be dangerous. She was right. It could be.

But he feared losing her far more than whatever might come of that danger. He loved her. Period.

She stirred slightly as he gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. He put his arm back around her and cupped her breast, pulling her gently into him. She reached down to put her hand on top of his and helped him tuck her in closer to him, but didn't open her eyes. She was still asleep, and it looked like she was sleeping easier now. He was glad.

"Oh, Morrigan, what would I do without you?" He whispered softly.

"I hope, certainly, that you would not resort to bestiality in my absence."

He was surprised; he hadn't seen her open her eyes, and was a little embarrassed that she'd heard him.

"I thought you were asleep?" He stroked her hair gently, before she took his hand and put it back on her breast.

"I was." She was smiling slightly.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to wake you."

"'Tis alright. I was having a bad dream anyway."

"You too, huh?"

She rolled over to face him, with a look of uncharacteristic concern in her eyes.

"What was yours about?" She asked.

"You."

"Oh." A look of confusion crossed her face, and Aedan sought to add to his answer.

"It was a dream about… losing you." He knew what she was about to say, and he went on before she could say it. "I know what you're about to say. You're going to tell that this was, _is_, a bad idea, and that you told me so all along."

"Yes, I did." She wasn't smiling now.

"Let me finish. I understand now what you meant when you said that this interdependence was a weakness. A distraction. Even a danger. When I think of what would happen if I lost you, it makes my blood run cold. I feel like I wouldn't be able to carry on."

"You are not helping your case, Warden."

"Then let me tell you why I feel this way. For the first time in my entire life, I've met someone that I can be completely myself around. When I'm with you, I'm not pretending. You think human interaction is a sham anyway, so I don't have to put on the many masks that growing up as a noble required me to wear. Even around our party. With Alistair, I hide some of my darkness. With Sten, I can't show any weakness. With Wynne… well, Wynne is like a mother to me. And no one lets their mother see everything, do they?

"I think I can relate to that last point, at least," she allowed.

"And we're not even including Leliana. I know she wants me, and I have to be careful not to hurt her. She is not a fragile woman, by any means, but she is a good person, and I don't want to cause her pain. Even without that complication, and despite her past, she is about as close to innocence as you can get in a world like this. Some of the decisions that I have to make… I would prefer it if she didn't have to face their consequences.

"My entire life, everyone has always had such crushing expectations of me. But with you, I'm just me. Not the noble, not the Warden. Just Aedan. I don't have to worry about showing fear in front of you, and even though you don't really believe in human joy and celebration, I don't have to censor my feelings for your benefit. You simply accept them, at face value, or don't. I have never met anyone else that I feel comfortable around like you. I trust you, in a way that I don't even trust Alistair. Isn't that strange? You probably think this is all very silly, but I wanted to tell you how I feel."

She did not say anything for several minutes. Instead, she just lay there, quietly, looking into his eyes. Neither of them said anything. Then, she smiled, slightly, as if she'd come to some decision.

"Your feelings are returned. I… do not really understand any of this. I have never experienced it before, and it is confusing to me. I do not know how to act, how to feel. What is normal? It terrifies me, but for once I am not afraid to admit that to someone. Flemeth would have slapped me for allowing such weakness to show, and I half expect you to do the same, but time and time again, you do not."

"Never. And I like you exactly as you are. You. Don't worry about how to act, what is appropriate. If I was going to get angry about you acting inappropriately, I would have long since changed my mind about the time I told you I preferred you to speak your mind." He smiled a crooked smile at the last, and she returned it, as they shared the memory of their second meeting. "Truly, it's what makes you so completely different than any woman I've ever met, or will likely ever meet, that makes you so special to me. Nobles meet a lot of people, Morrigan. But I never met anyone who expressed themselves as freely as you. It is so refreshing to me that I cannot adequately describe it to you." He brushed a hair out of her eye and tucked it over her ear.

"I still do not want to talk about the future, Aedan."

"Don't worry about the future. Not even about tomorrow. Honestly, every day when we wake up there's a good chance we won't have to worry about tomorrow, because we'll all be dead." He was surprised to hear himself actually say it, but now that he had, he believed that he did mean it. He wanted to have a future with her, for certain, but he really, truly, didn't even know that he'd be alive this time tomorrow. The present was the only thing he could control.

"'Tis too true, that."

"What that means is that we have to live like all we have is today. And if all I have is today, the only thing I want is you, Morrigan. Just you." He swore he actually saw tears in her eyes, but it was dark, so he pretended he didn't see them. She didn't say anything about his, either. It was dark, after all.

Morrigan didn't really understand what it was she was feeling at this moment. She felt the anxiousness lift, and felt it replaced with something else, something warm. It would be months before she realized that for the first time in her life, she was experiencing happiness, and safety. It was strong enough, even, that she was able to force her terrible secret from her mind, at least for now. As he had said, maybe all they had was today, and they'd be dead by the next day. It wouldn't matter for some time, yet. Some day she would have to deal with it, and what it meant with him, but not tonight. Not tonight.

They held each other close for some time, and then, they did something that neither had ever done before. Both had experienced sex, many times in truth, but neither of them had ever before made love. In the predawn hours before they had to again face the world that wanted to kill them, the witch and the Warden made love.


	11. Chapter 10: It's Just Too Big For Me

Aedan sat in the great hall nursing an ale, alone. His friends were all in the hall as well, but he had drifted quietly away from their table half an hour ago when he realized he needed solitude for a time. He was in a tense mood. After all the buildup, all the preparation, all the months leading up to the moment, Aedan was taken by surprise at how he felt now that it was all over, and that they'd be marching to battle in the coming weeks. He'd had formal martial training all his life; he was a noble after all. And he'd seen more than his share of combat over the last year, against both men and Darkspawn. But he'd never actually been in a battle. He had always been kept just out of it by his father, for fear of risking both his heirs in the same battle. Ostagar ahd been the closest he'd come, and he was still diverted into a sideshow. Nevermind that it was an important sideshow, it was still not real battle. In a word, he was terrified, and he didn't know how to deal with it. He had never expected that he, after everything he'd been through, felt like a young boy who didn't know what would happen in the morning. So, he did what he had always done when he was afraid: bottled it up, let none of it show, and prepared.

They marched in the morning, but he hadn't forgotten the lessons in logistics he had been taught by his father and brother: when it's the enemy's army marching, he'll be here in the morning if not sooner. When it's your army that's marching, it will take at least four times as long as you think it should, and then it will still be delayed. He knew that even under the best circumstances, he would have at a minimum a few weeks to do some refresher training.

He hadn't worn proper armor or weapons since he had fled from his family's castle a year ago, so the first step was to procure some so he could readjust in the little time remaining before they met their foes on the field. He recalled another lesson his father had taught him when he was a young(er) man, and decided that he would skip the local shops, despite their fine wares, and head straight for the royal armory. Having made his decision, he drained the rest of his mug in one go, set it down hard on the table, and got up to go. As he headed for the door, his companions, as if by some unspoken agreement, simultaneously drained their mugs and quickly followed after him.

"You don't really think we're going to let you wander the streets of Denerim alone, do you?" said Alistair when he caught up with the Warden as he donned his cloak.

Aedan deliberately took his time getting the hood over his head so he could think for a moment about how to reply. _Should I send them back? I told them I wanted to be alone. _If they were worried about his safety, they were probably right._ Still.._

Amazingly, it was Morrigan who talked sense into him. "Honestly, after all the trouble we just went to in order to get you out of harm's way, we are not about to let you go wandering off alone. We care far too much for that."

Finishing with his cloak, Aedan smiled and relented as he realized that he had been wrong. He didn't really want to be alone after all; he wanted to be with his friends. He was glad they were coming, and didn't have to say so. He nodded his agreement, and they headed out the door. They were quite a sight, the seven of them. Never in recent history had such a motley crew graced Ferelden, and there were quite a few unsavory mercenary companies roaming the streets of Denerim these days. But none of them could compare to such an unlikely group as one containing two mages, one of the circle and one an apostate, two Grey Wardens, one a noble, and the other a former Templar, no less, a Qunari berserker, a bard turned religious woman, and a Marbari warhound to round it all out. Even the ones who _didn't_ know who they were were smart enough not to give them any trouble.

Alistair was the first to realize that they were going somewhere they'd never been before.

"Say, uh, where are we going, exactly? We passed our inn several blocks ago."

"We aren't going to the inn, Alistair. We're going to the royal armory."

"What? Why?"

"There are some things that I need there."

"Oh, I get it, they'll just give you what you want from the royal armory because you ask nicely," he replied with his usual sarcasm, "I should have thought of that."

"As much as I appreciate politeness and protocol, he has a point. We cannot exactly break into the royal armory, surely even you cannot be that reckless." Leliana paused, and finished her thought: "Although, I suppose, _you_ probably could if you really wanted to," she finished innocently.

"Actually, Leliana, Alistair's got it exactly right. I'm going to ask, nicely, and they're going to give it to me."

His companions stopped walking.

"You are?!" They all exclaimed in unison. It was comical, really.

"Yes. There is something that is known as the Noble's Prerogative. It says that as a Noble, in a time of war, if I find myself on the eve of battle without suitable equipment, assuming I intend to fight, I may requisition arms and equipment from the royal armory for myself and my bodyguards. I cannot, however, equip an entire force in this manner. But I can certainly equip myself, and any of you who need anything. The king may of course refuse my request, but it would be highly improper for him to do so."

It was Sten who caught on first.

"So, wouldn't that mean that Alistair can just give you whatever it is you need himself?"

Aedan nodded. Leliana and Wynne looked at each other in surprise as they realized the full implication of what had been said. Morrigan just smiled; she'd figured this out as soon as Aedan mentioned the armory, but chose not to share.

"So, I guess it comes down to you, my lord. Will you deny me my requisition?" He gave a mock bow to Alistair, who blushed in embarrassment and annoyance.

"Oh, knock it off, of course not, take whatever you need. I can't believe I didn't think of that, of course you can get whatever you need from the royal armory, it belongs to me now, doesn't it?"

"Technically it belongs to the kingdom, and thus the people, not you personally. But effectively, yes, it does."

"I'll have to get used to that," he murmured soberly. Aedan clapped him on the shoulder in amusement and apology.

"Ah, here we are. Let's see if they know who we are or not."

They walked up to the pair of guards blocking the entrance to the royal armory. The senior guard saluted, obviously recognizing them.

"Greetings, Wardens and company. The armory is closed to visitors. What can I do for you, however?"

"I am here to exercise Noble's Prerogative," announced Aedan. The guards looked at each other in surprise.

"You're a noble? We didn't know that. Well, are you familiar with the proper protocols for a requisition, then?"

Aedan did, and began to recite them, but Alistair stopped him.

"Oh, for pete's sake, enough with the formality. Just get him the finest white steel daggers you have in there."

"Actually, Alistair, I'm not here for daggers and leather armor. I want full plate mail, a shield, and a broadsword."

The guards saluted again, and went off to gain entrance to the armory. Aedan's companions looked at him in surprise.

"Aedan, you've never expressed any interest in the plate mail and swords we've found in the last year. You gave them to Sten and me. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Think about it, Alistair. We're going into a pitched battle. What use is a rogue? There will be no backs to stab, only mounted charges and formations. What I have now just isn't the proper gear for this fight."

"Well yeah, you're right, but I wasn't going to say anything." Alistair looked uncomfortable. "But what I mean is, do you even know how to _use_ any of this stuff? I mean don't get me wrong, you're a genuine _artist _with your daggers, but come on man, full plate and broadsword? This just isn't your style."

The guards returned before he could respond, and led them all inside to pick what they wanted. Aedan looked around for a few minutes, trying out different swords and shields, before settling in on a suit of plate mail bearing the crest of Wade, a white steel broardsword, and a Ferelden knight's shield. Alistair had to admit, Aedan did seem to know his way around an armory. He had ignored the flashy but useless garbage that every noble seemed to keep around for show, and headed right for the good stuff. He handled the equipment well, too, examining the weapons and armor with both respect and skill. He chose only the best-maintained pieces. He knew where to look. Any idiot could polish a breastplate, but only someone who truly cared about their set would take the time to oil each individual link of chain under the shoulder guards to prevent otherwise unseen rust. Any uncorrected dents or nicks, any hint of rust, and he discarded it.

Aedan carried his selections over to a table and began laying it out to try everything on. When he realized everyone was staring at him, he stopped. "What are you all looking at me for? We're in the royal armory of Ferelden! Grab some gear!" He went back to the task of laying out the plate mail, and didn't notice that nobody else had moved. They were still just watching him.

Sten and Alistair were the only two who knew enough about heavy armor and blades to see that Aedan definitely knew what he was doing. He was not trying to look the part by jumping right into the armor. He was doing it right, laying it out, examining each piece, and making sure he fully understood how all the straps and buckles went together before trying a single piece on. Once his inventory was complete, he began strapping pieces in place, and this was where the two other warriors became really impressed. It was a well known fact that heavy armor was uncomfortable, and many inexperienced fighters tended to cut corners to get things to hang more comfortably. The trick was knowing which modifications were beneficial, and which would put you in danger. Knowing which was which was a matter of practice and experience. Based on the straps and buckles Aedan chose to wear properly and which ones he was ignoring, it was obvious he had both, and knew the difference. Interestingly enough, he chose to maintain his dagger sheaths on his back, even though he was now dressed for line combat, not dagger.

When he was done with the armor, he strapped on his sword girdle, and expertly tied off the extra length of leather with a down loop knot his brother had taught him years before. Next he hefted the shield, tightened the straps, and adjusted the grip cord slightly. All that was left was to adjust his helmet visor, and he would be ready to wade into battle right then and there.

Morrigan looked at him in a completely different light than before. She had known, intellectually, that the Warden must have had a martial upbringing, but seeing him here, now, in full plate armor, looking every part the noble knight, she had to admit she was impressed. He did look the part, and based on the looks Sten and Alistair were giving him, he was moving the part as well. How curious it was, truly, that such a man as this had spent the last year of his life living in squalor even the commoners would stick their noses up at, and that he had chosen her, when surely he must have had access to all the most eligible maidens in the land. _Strange, indeed_.

She expected herself to feel threatened by that last thought, and indeed, almost wanted to, because she knew she was running out of time to tell him the truth before it was too late, but she wasn't. She did feel even more conflicted, but only because all she was feeling was that warm sensation she had learned to understand was care. She cared about him, and he cared about her, enough that he had made it very clear he was willing to give up everything, just to be with her. She hadn't understood until now how much he had meant he was willing to give up when he made that promise. She would have to tell him soon. It was killing her to hold this in, to keep it from him. But she was afraid what he would say, what he would do, when she did. So she kept her silence, and pretended not to worry about tomorrow today.

Now fully dressed, Aedan realized that his friends still hadn't moved.

"Seriously? None of you want anything from the armory?"

They all thought about the gear they already had, and looked around at the items they saw on the racks and shelves, and at each other. Slowly, they all shook their heads.

"We don't need anything, Aedan," said Leliana, softly, "you made sure of that when you gave us the finest selection of captured equipment, before taking any for yourself. We have everything we need already."

Aedan looked from one to the next, standing there in their own gear, and he realized they were right. He'd taken care of them first, and he was the only one that needed anything. Still, he had one thing left he could give them. He took from his bag seven herald scarves of Higheaver. He had found them at the bottom of the backpack he had grabbed as an afterthought as he fled his family's estate the previous winter. He gave one to each of his companions, tied one around his dog's neck, and finally took the last one for himself.

"I know that these don't really mean anything anymore, and that it may not even be appropriate for Alistair to have one, being king and all, but I want each of you to have one. You don't have to wear it. I just..wanted to give you all something to tell you how much I appreciate what all of you have done for me. I began this journey with nothing, and I now feel like I'll finish it with everything. I owe it all to you."

Sten didn't really understand how a piece of cloth was supposed to matter, but he did grasp what Aedan was trying to convey. It was the thanks of one warrior to another, and that was something he did understand. Morrigan still didn't admit to herself that she believed in sentiment, even though she clearly did, and she was touched anyway. Wynne looked like a proud mother, Leliana looked like she'd just been given the most beautiful silk cloth in all of Orlais, and Alistair looked like his brother Fergus had the last time they'd seen each other, the night of his family's betrayal. His Dog, of course, barked happily, as he always did any time his master gave him attention.

They stood there for a few moments, reflecting, before the guards came back.

"Do you require anything else, my lords?" The senior asked.

"Yes, actually," replied Aedan, "Do you have a courtyard or field suitable for sparring?"

"Of course! Right this way."

Alistair gave him a puzzled look.

"What, you honestly think I'm going to grab up all this shiny equipment and not want to try it out? Come on, man, what kind of an unimpulsive old man do you take me for? Come on, let's go break this stuff in!"

Alistair shrugged, and they all followed the guard through a short tunnel that opened into an open training courtyard, complete with target dummies and bow targets. They set their gear down, and they all sat down to watch Alistair and Aedan spar.

"Alright, brother, let's take it a bit slow. As you mentioned, it's been a while since I used this stuff, and I'm a little out of practice."

"Yeah, yeah, quit stalling and hit me already, let's get this over with."

Wynne and Morrigan, by unspoken agreement, kept alert with healing spells. They were only sparring, but they were using live blades, and it would be unforgivable to lose one of the Wardens on the eve of battle to a training accident. After a few moments spent circling each other, probing for weaknesses, Aedan made the first advance. He was taking it slow, but Sten, Alistair, and the guards could see that his form was good. His first strike was only a probe, to see how alert his partner was. Alistair blocked it easily, and gave the correct counter, and Aedan brought up his shield to ward off the blow. They went on like that, trading blows back and forth, for several minutes before taking a quick break.

"Alright, Aedan, it doesn't look like you're really as rusty as you say you are. Shall we take this up a notch and go to three-quarter speed?"

"Sure, if you're up for it. Wynne, Morrigan, could you guys spot us please? These are real blades we're training with, not blunted practice swords."

"We've been spotting you the whole time, dear," Wynne replied with a smile, "We've got you, don't' worry. Just don't deliberately skewer each other and it should be alright."

"Come on, mate, isn't that missing out on the whole point, then?" Alistair jibbed. They crossed blades again, in salute, and then began circling again.

This time it was Alistair who made the first advance, and even at only three-quarter speed, his four-cut combination would have been tricky to counter correctly. Aedan didn't really remember the moves, but his feet and arms did, and he found that with just a little bit of effort he could properly counter the attacks, and tried out some offensive strikes. Alistair was a good partner, and gave Aedan just what he needed. He let him get in some strikes at first, so that he could remember what he was doing, and slowly began ramping up his defense as he became more comfortable. After a few minutes of this, Sten spoke up.

"This is all very well and good, Wardens, but we are not fighting other gentlemen on a practice field. We are fighting Darkspawn in a field made muddy with our own blood."

Leliana spoke to protest, but Aedan cut her off.

"No, Sten is right. Alistair, for this to be worthwhile, we have to do it at full speed. I think we should switch to practice swords for this. I want to go for full execution killing blows."

"Are you sure, mate? It's not that I don't trust you, I just-"

"No, I'm sure. Do you object?"

"No, of course not. I'll get the blades."

He returned a moment later with two blunted practice swords that had roughly the same weight and haft of their sharpened counterparts. He offered them both to Aedan, as etiquette demanded, to choose his blade first.

"Don't hold back, Alistair. I need this."

"Right. I won't. You ready?"

Aedan flipped his visor down, to give him the full experience of fighting in his armor, and held his sword out in salute. They touched swords one last time, and began. Morrigan and Wynne looked at each other uncomfortably. What had begun as a simple sparring exercise had turned into a real fight. Alistair had to admit that Aedan was good. He certainly wasn't acting rusty. Honestly, he was glad he would never have to face Aedan in battle. He had seen what he could do with daggers wearing light armor, and it appeared he could do the same in plate mail and broadsword. Alistair had a few tricks of his own that he'd picked up in the Chantry, but he honestly felt outmatched. Aedan had said not to hold back, to fully execute the killing blows, but he was reluctant. It came as a surprise, then, when Aedan went for the thin gap between his helmet and breastplate, at full speed. He wasn't cut, since these blades had never had an edge on them, not even a dull one, but he was bruised badly, and quite surprised. He hadn't really believed Aedan was serious.

"I said full speed, Alistair. Come on, hit me!"

Alistair narrowed his eyes, and began probing his opponent in earnest now. Try as he might, he could find no openings. Very well, he was a fool to try to out finesse Aedan anyway. _Time to try some brute force._ He feinted right with his blade, drawing Aedan slightly off balance, and then drove straight into him with a shield bash that knocked Aedan clear off his feet. Amazingly, dexterous as ever, Aedan snapped into a roll and came up in a fighting crouch. Everyone was shocked. No one had ever heard of someone managing that in heavy armor, but their eyes didn't lie.

They went on for another two hours. Leliana eventually wandered off to practice with her bow, going through over 200 arrows during the course of the afternoon. Sten meditated with his sword, practicing his cuts in a zen-like silence. Dog chased squirrels, and then took a nap. Morrigan and Wynne, however, looked on with growing unease, struggling to maintain alertness in case one of them should be seriously wounded and require immediate aid. When Aedan and Alistair were done, both were battered, bruised, sore, and could barely lift their arms. But it had been a good session, and no one had any remaining doubts about how Aedan would handle himself on a traditional battlefield.

No one, that is, except Aedan himself. When the rest of them packed up to go (it was now late evening, and they had missed dinner hours ago already), he stayed behind.

"You guys go, I'm going to practice alone for a while. Sten, Wynne, and Leliana shrugged and said they'd see him in the morning, as long as he promised to come home escorted by the men they had handpicked earlier as trustworthy bodyguards. Alistair and Morrigan, however, waited a moment longer. They had known him the longest, and they looked at each other before leaving. They were worried about him. Dog of course stayed with Aedan, although he did raid his bag for food, making a mess. Aedan didn't notice. He was out until well past midnight fighting the practice dummies, seeking to defeat his opponents, both real and imagined.

Back at the inn, about an hour before Aedan would arrive, Morrigan heard a knock on her door. She and Aedan had long since stopped getting separate rooms, since everyone knew about them, but he always knocked anyway, out of politeness. She thought it was a little strange, but she liked it, somehow. He did it to show that he respected her, and she appreciated that. She was wearing a very sheer gown that Leliana had given her, unasked, in Ozrammar the first and only time she had ever agreed to go "shopping". Morrigan found the whole affair nauseating, but she did have to admit that Leliana had chosen well. She opened the door, and was both surprised and embarrassed when she found not Aedan, as she expected, but Alistair. Clearly, however, Alistair was far more embarrassed than she, as he turned a bright shade of scarlet.

"Oh, come now, dear Alistair, do not tell me you have never seen a woman?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively. She only did it because she knew and loved how funny he got when he was embarrassed.

"Well, actually, no, not exactly, but that's not the point."

She pulled her robes around herself to save Alistair further embarrassment, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh?"

"I'm, well," he looked around uncomfortably, "can I come in? I don't want to be overheard."

She said nothing, but opened the door and stepped back to allow him to enter.

"He still is not back yet, as you can see."

"I know. But I'm not here to talk to him, that isn't the point either."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow in question. She was almost afraid at what he might tell her. They had long since given up their rivalry and achieved a certain level of mutual respect, but they still were not exactly friends. They would fight to the death to protect each other, as they all would for any of the rest, but they were just too different to ever be friends separately. As such, they welcomed each other's company at a table, but did not spend much time talking to each other alone. Whatever Alistair had come here to say, it must have been important.

"I'm worried about him, Morrigan."

"Ah, so that is why you are here. And I almost thought for a moment that you actually wanted to see what it was that had so captivated your friend the Warden."

"Knock it off, Morrigan, I'm serious."

Sensing that he was, she dropped the act and got serious too.

"I am worried too. 'Twas not normal, what happened there in that courtyard. I half expected him to demand that you move back to real blades and go again at full speed, rather than be satisfied with fighting the target dummies after you said you wanted to stop."

"I know we don't always get along, Morrigan, but we both have known him a long time. And we both care about him. Have no doubt about that."

She turned away from him and shivered for a moment. He was right.

"I know. What do you think is wrong?"

"I don't know. I really don't. I was hoping you knew, maybe he'd told you something..?"

Morrigan knew better than to get offended; she knew he was not making an accusation. She would have a year ago, but that was then.

"No. He told me nothing. I really am worried, then. I thought for sure that if he had not told me something, surely he would have told you." _And less hurt, now, too, petty as that is,_ she thought. _If he didn't tell Alistair either, then I shouldn't doubt that he trusts me simply because he had something he didn't feel he could tell anyone, not even me. _The irony of that thought was not lost on her. "If he has not, what can we do, truly? We cannot force it out of him. We will have to wait and see, and support him if and when he does choose to share with us whatever it is that is bothering him."

Alistair shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day, Morrigan, I really didn't. That sounded almost… human of you."

Again, she would have been offended a year ago, but now they were no longer strangers at each other's throats for influence over the Warden's decisions. They trusted each other, now, even if they still didn't agree very often. Now they were, well, she couldn't think of a term, exactly, so she just decided that they were "notfriends". Instead, she just smiled.

"Goodnight, Alistair. Try not to worry. He is tough. We've all been through a lot, and had our moments. He is entitled to one of his own, I think."

"Goodnight, Morrigan. You're right, he is. But when he does come back, can you still tell him I'm worried about him, and am here if he wants to talk about it? I'd tell him myself, but men just don't really… well, it just, you know what I mean?"

"I know, Alistair. I will."

Alistair said goodnight one last time, and closed the door behind him when he left, leaving Morrigan to ponder. She had moved past her petty relief that he hadn't been keeping something from her that he trusted enough to tell someone else, and was now just worried. She promised herself she wouldn't push him, but she would express her concern, and ask him what was wrong. If he didn't want to open up, she wouldn't force the issue. Truly, who would she be to demand that from him if he did not want to give it up willingly?

A year ago, Morrigan would have then moved on to worry that the Warden was beginning to notice that she was holding something back, and spent the next hour worrying about that. But it was a testament to her growth in the course of their adventures together that she did not think about herself again that night. Instead, she just worried about him.

Later that night, when he finally did get back, he quietly let himself in with his key. He didn't knock because he expected her to be asleep, and he did not want to wake her. In truth, she had been lying awake, worried. She pretended to be asleep, however, to see what he would do. He quietly undressed, and slipped into bed next to her. Seeing that she was still asleep, he kissed her gently on the shoulder, and pulled the blankets up so she would not get cold. Then he lay on his back and sighed, as if he had some great burden he was struggling with.

Morrigan decided that was her cue. She rolled over to face him, and open her eyes. He was so drawn up in whatever he was thinking about that he actually didn't notice. She just watched him for a few minutes, trying to feel what he was feeling, and then spoke.

"What is wrong, Aedan?" she asked quietly.

He blinked as he was drawn back out from his thoughts.

"Is it that easy to tell?"

"No, 'tis not, but I know you. I know what that sound means. It means you are struggling with something big." She propped herself up on one elbow so that she could see him better.

Aedan looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I suppose you want me to tell you what's bothering me, then?"

"Yes. I want to help you. I am worried about you. But you do not have to. We can just lie here if you want."

When he finally spoke again, she thought she must have misheard him.

"I'm scared, Morrigan."

"You are what?"

"You heard me. I'm scared."

His answer confused her. _What could he be afraid of_? So she asked him.

"Of what?"

"Seriously?" He looked at her. He absolutely believed that she loved him, but he was still surprised. Even towards him, this level of tenderness and concern from Morrigan was unusual. "I'm scared of the coming battle. How I will carry myself. Whether I will die. Whether I will run."

_So that's why he insisted on going so all out this afternoon_. It was her turn to be surprised. Truly, her Warden? Afraid of battle? Fear of death and defeat she understood, they faced that every day and it never got easier. But fear of how he would handle himself? Had he not proven to them, to her, to himself, day in and day out, that he was a trained fighter and no coward, a capable leader? How often had he anchored their courage in the face of seemingly inevitable defeat, and carried them to victory? How could he be afraid, now, once they'd finally gotten everything they had been working so hard towards?

"I do not understand, Aedan. You have been in hundreds of battles. We all have. Of course you are scared, we all are. Even after all we have been through, there is never any guarantee we will come out of the next fight alive. I understand that part. But I do not understand why you are afraid of how you will handle yourself in the coming weeks."

"I have never been in a battle, Morrigan. I've been in hundreds of fights, sure, most of them deadly enough. But this is different. I was my father's second son. I've never been in a real battle, with armies, and generals. I can carry myself through a fight, I know that, but this, it's just different. I don't know how to explain it."

"I think what is different this time is that you have more people counting on you than ever before. Am I correct?"

He thought about it for a minute. "Yes, I think that's part of it."

"And do you not think we have not all been counting on you this whole time?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then how is this different? None of us have any doubts. We trust you."

"It's different because even though I knew everything counted on us succeeding, at any one time, it was just the six of you counting on me. We were all equals, not judging each other if the other had a momentary failure. We helped each other if one fell down, and learned to trust and count on each other. This is different because there are thousands counting on me to lead them to victory, and they don't see Aedan, their companion, a human man with human weaknesses just like them. They see me as some kind of towering, messianic figure that is going to lead them out of the depths of the Blight."

"And at Redcliffe, the first time, where you taught me that we all need a little help sometimes? Did you not have hundreds counting on you in the same way?"

"Yes, I did. But that was smaller. This, it's just too big. It's too big for me."

"It's too big for all of us, Aedan. That's just how these things are. We just have to do our best, and succeed in our small part. Even if that part happens to be huge."

"And what if I fail?"

"Then we all die. But we won't hold it against you."

"That… doesn't sound like it should be comforting, but it is."

"Good." She kissed him softly on the lips and ran her fingers gently through his hair. "Do you remember what you told me, the first night we spent in Denerim? About how we may all be dead in the morning, so we should not worry about tomorrow while we still have tonight?"

"Yes, I remember."

She rested her head on his chest, and he played idly with her hair.

"Then stop worrying about tomorrow. Today, you did everything that you could have done to ensure that tomorrow we do not fail. There is nothing more you can do tonight. If we live until tomorrow, then we can worry about doing more to prepare in the morning.

"By the way, Alistair is worried about you too. He came by to tell me so a little while before you got back."

Aedan raised his head off the pillow slightly so he could get a better look at her.

"Are you serious? He actually, voluntarily, came to talk to you about something personal?"

She didn't open her eyes, but she nodded and smiled.

"'Tis a bit hard to believe, is it not? Times change, I suppose."

He nodded to himself in wonder, and brushed an errant strand out of her eye. _Yes, they certainly do_. "Why didn't he come to me himself?"

"Ah, that. He said something silly about how 'men don't talk', or some nonsense like that. Honestly, you men are the biggest phonies to walk the earth. Trying to claim you do not have emotions right up until the time you burst into tears. He just wanted me to tell you that he was, and that if you did want to break that sacred manhood taboo, he would listen."

"Thank you for telling me. And you have, helped me, by the way. I do feel better."

"Oh? How much better?"

"Why?" He asked, getting suspicious.

"Oh, no reason…" she tapered off, and began walking her fingers up his arm, and looking him directly in the eye.

"Do you, now?" He replied, grasping what she was getting at.

"Yes, but I am only teasing. You need your rest."

"No, I don't, I'm perfectly capable of—OW!" He doubled up in pain as she poked one of his many bruises from the afternoon's sparring. She raised an eyebrow, calling his bluff.

"Oh, are you now?"

"Ok, maybe you're right. Is that alright?"

"Of course it is." She crawled up closer to him and nibbled his ear. "It's not like we might die tomorrow or anything," she whispered before tonguing the inside of his ear.

"You're an insufferable vixen, you know that?"

"Yes, well, what are you going to do about it?"  
"Oh, you'll see."

It was good that the walls were not thin.


	12. Chapter 11: A Dark Promise

Aedan had not expected what Riordan had told them. Death in battle was not something he worried about often. It was a constant danger, but beyond training rigorously and keeping alert on the actual battlefield, there wasn't much to be done about it. It was just one of those things that went with the job, and thus his lifestyle. The death of his _friends_ in battle, however, was something he worried about. It was silly, really. They all faced the same odds, and they each rolled the cosmic dice every day. Anyone could catch a stray arrow, or lose their footing at a bad moment. His friends were no more (and no less) likely to die than he. Still, if he were killed in battle, it would be far preferable to losing one of his companions. If he survived and they didn't, he would have to live out his days.

_ Dying is easy. Living is hard._

Though always a constant shadow, death had never really invaded his thoughts before. After the conversation with Riordan, it did. To end the Blight, either Riordan, Alistair, or himself had to die. Period. No cosmic dice, no matching skill at arms with a foe, no clever plan. Just. Certain. Death. It bothered him. Not the death. The inevitability. Aedan hated inevitability. The very concept that anything was preordained, certain, _unchangeable_ grated against everything he believed in and fought for. No one should be forced into a path because of destiny or circumstances! Right behind "Everyone needs help sometimes" in his personal phrasebook was "We are who we choose to be." So he couldn't accept it.

For the second time since they'd arrived at the now damaged castle of Redcliffe, Aedan nearly broke his hand by smashing it into the table he was sitting at. The table didn't budge, but his cup did bounce once and tip over, spilling its contents all over the table. Aedan's dog woke up from his nap and looked at him.

"Sorry, boy. I didn't mean to startle you," Aedan apologized to the Mabari. His dog just looked at him, for a moment, and went back to sleep. "Yeah, yeah. I wish I could be as relaxed as you about everything," he said, more to himself than to his sleeping dog.

_Maker's breath, if I die who is going to take care of my dog?_ The thought was through his head before he realized how silly it was. He didn't worry about things like that. He could die every day. His dog could die every day. Still, it wasn't for certain before. There it was again. Certain. Even though it wasn't, quite. Only one of the three of them had to make the final blow, but Aedan knew in his heart that Riordan was not up to his full strength yet. He had been in the dungeon for too long, and had not had time to recover. And he was for damn sure not about to let Alistair take the final blow, not now that he was king. Not over his dead body! And he did mean that literally. He'd hit his friend if he had to to prevent it. So yes, it was going to be Aedan who died, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

With a sigh, Aedan got up from the table. He walked over to his hound and knelt down. His dog was asleep again, like Aedan should have been hours ago. He decided not to wake him, and in a moment of weakness he buried his face in the dog's fur and nuzzled it. Everyone needs comfort sometimes was a fair bastardization of his favorite saying, after all.

Aedan got up, and began climbing the stairs to his room. He thought about knocking on Morrigan's door (the servants had insisted on giving them separate rooms), and his heart sank. With his family murdered, he had nothing tying him down, and now that he'd had his revenge, he should have been at peace, ready to go, if he had to. Truly, such a death as that should be an honor, inevitability be damned. In fact, if he'd known when he left that he might have to sacrifice himself to end the Blight, he would have gladly done so.

But that was before _her_. It had started out simple and uncomplicated. She intrigued him. She was fairly forward about the fact that he intrigued her too. Things had led to other things, and that had been that. But it had become so much more. He'd fallen in love with her. In clear violation of everything she claimed to stand for, she'd fallen in love with him too. They'd been together nearly a year now, the longest either of them had ever been with the same person in their lives.

For a long time, the others had not really accepted it. Most of them didn't understand it. They still didn't. But they'd all accepted it, and even come to encourage it. Aedan figured that it gave them all comfort, somehow. That even in the middle of a Blight, and between two of the least likely individuals, love was alive and well in the world. With all the death and suffering they witnessed, they had something to remind them that good things could still happen in the world.

Now, he was going to have to stick a dagger in that love to save the world.

If he died, he couldn't be with her anymore. It was a stupid, silly thought. Obvious too. But still, it made him sad. They still hadn't talked about what they would do once this was all over. He still wanted to be with her, no matter what it would cost him. Even if he could talk Morrigan into a longterm commitment, he was absolutely certain she did not want to be carried off to his castle. He would probably have to give up his title. He was okay with that. Killing Howe had been about vengeance, not restoring his nobility. _I guess none of that matters, now_, he thought.

He continued past Morrigan's door and reached for the key to his own door. He wasn't planning on sleep anyway, so he could always wake Morrigan up later if he decided he wanted company. She wouldn't be mad. His senses flashed danger as he opened the door. Something was wrong. A quick glance down at the latch confirmed it. The lock had been melted. He forced aside his doubts and concerns as he quietly put one hand on the hilt of a dagger and pushed the door inward. It opened slowly with an ominous creak. His room was dimly lit by the flickering light of a fire that he had not set. He drew one of his daggers as he eased into the room. His eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for the intruder.

He moved through the outer room of his suite to his bedroom door and listened quietly. He could hear the fire going inside, but nothing else. He hadn't added wood to that fire in hours. Someone was in his room. Very carefully, he lifted the latch and swung the door open slowly. Despite their rust, the hinges betrayed not a sound. Before the fire, with her back to him, stood Morrigan. Aedan raised an eyebrow in confusion, looked around quickly, and sheathed his blades. He then announced his presence by closing the door behind him. Morrigan turned around. He knew she hadn't heard him, but she had not given any indication that he'd startled her. She'd either known he was there anyway, or was just keeping very tight control over her body language. Meeting her eyes, Aedan decided on the latter. Her breathing was carefully controlled, and the set of her jaw was far more deliberate than usual. She looked… nervous. Morrigan _never_ looked nervous. Controlled, perhaps even awkward, but never nervous. It wasn't good.

"Do not be alarmed, it is only I."

"You could have just asked me for the key, you know. I would have given it to you. I certainly don't need a key to gain access to a room." He didn't smile, because Morrigan obviously was in a serious mood, but his words were teasing, not accusatory. As he expected, she didn't smile at his jest. "Alright, Morrigan, what is it? You obviously didn't come here to gossip."

"You are right, Warden, I did not."

"Well, what then?" Aedan began removing his equipment. He was tired, and something told him that whatever she was going to say was bad news. No sense taking bad news standing up, or wearing 60 pounds of gear.

"I have a plan, you see. A way out. The loop in your hole, as it were."

Aedan frowned in suspicion. Surely she couldn't mean..?

"I know what happens when the Archdemon dies." She began to walk toward him slowly, her eyes focused on his like a spell. She did know, then. For the first time ever, he feared her. "I know that a Grey Warden must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you that this does not need to be."

Aedan's heart soared. Perhaps, by some miracle, he could do his duty, and they could still be together?

"I'm listening."

"I'm offering a way out. A way out for all the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice. A ritual. Performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night."

Aedan frowned slightly. He wasn't so sure he liked the sound of this. He trusted Morrigan, but something like that would have to be truly powerful magic indeed.

"What sort of ritual?" he said uncertainly.

"It is old magic. From a time before the Circle of Magi existed. Some would call it blood magic. But I think recent days have taught us that this is not always to be feared."

Aedan crossed his arms, but despite his discomfort at the thought, he could not disagree with what she said. Desperate times called for desperate measures. "And where did you get this ritual?" he asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

"From Flemeth, of course."

Aedan winced. "You aren't making this sound any better."

She shrugged. "What I propose is this. Lie with me, here, tonight, and from our joining a child will be conceived. It will carry the Taint, and when the Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek it out like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The Archdemon is still destroyed with no Grey Warden dying in the process. The child will then carry the soul of an Old God."

Aedan was quiet for a moment. He still hadn't moved after he'd taken off his gear. Morrigan's chest felt like it was going to burst from terror, but she kept her feelings in check. This was why she had been sent, after all. She had a duty to perform, just as he did. Still, she had never been this scared before in her life.

"You want to have a child with me?" he said quietly after a moment.

"Yes." Morrigan took a deep breath. After all this time, she must now tell him what she had been afraid of all along. But before she could continue, the Warden smiled.

"I'll do it."

"You..you will?" _Blast it, he does not _understand!_ I wish that this had never been, it would have been so much easier!_

"Yes. As long as you tell me that the child will not be harmed."

Morrigan struggled to respond to his spoken question instead of her yet unspoken words.

"Suffice it to say that what I seek is the essence of the Old God that was, not the dark forces that corrupted it. Some things are worth preserving in this world."

"Then I'll do it." He stepped towards her and tried to put his arms around her. She closed her eyes in pain and stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Aedan…" She forced herself to meet his gaze. The fact that this was hard was her fault, and she had to deal with the consequences. As she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted her.

"No, Morrigan, no explanations. We can talk about this in the morning. And trust me, we _will_ have a lot to talk about," he said firmly, "but tonight, all I care about is that you just told me you want to have my child." He folded her into his arms before she could protest, and her feeble attempts at protesting once more went unspoken. She was making this so much harder on herself, and on him, but what harm could there be in giving him one last night of happiness?

The next morning, they dressed quickly. It had been the most wonderful night of their lives, but now they knew they needed to talk.

"Alright, Morrigan, like I said, now you owe me some explanations. I interrupted you before you could say something last night, because I was afraid I might change my mind if I stopped to think about it."

Morrigan felt a sting of pain. "And do you wish now that you had?" She worked to keep the hurt and anger out of her voice.

The Warden realized his mistake. "No, Morrigan," he said softly, "I don't. Not for a minute. Now tell me, what is it that you were so eager to tell me last night?"

Morrigan screwed up all her courage. This was it. "After we slay the Archdemon together, you will never see me again."

His smile vanished and was replaced by confusion. "What are you talking about?" The hope that had begun to build within him when she'd told him he didn't need to perish in order to do his duty died just as swiftly as it had come. The elation he had felt when she said she wanted to have his child came crashing down, and he felt only agony.

"This was why I was sent, do you not understand? This was why Flemeth saved your life. So that I could save the essence of an Old God."

Aedan took a step back and closed his eyes. He put his hands out in front of him palm out with his fingers extended in a reflexive gesture. "I don't understand."

"I know you do not, Warden," she said gently, "This is why I could not tell you. Why I could not bring myself to."

"How long have you known about this?" Aedan didn't want to hear the answer, for he was fairly certain what it was.

"From the beginning, Aedan," she said sadly, "It was why she saved your life, yes." She knew the pain her words had caused, and it wrent her very soul. "But caring for you," she continued, "was never part of the plan." _There. I've said it. Now he knows my secret, and he will cast me off, accuse me of using him all this time, and will never believe that loving him was true. _"Aedan, I am so sorry for betraying you." She was unable to meet his eyes. She waited for him to say something.

Aedan was awash with too many emotions for him to figure out where he was at. Despite all of it, he knew that she was speaking the truth, and she didn't have to tell him that loving him was not a lie. She had warned him, after all, that he would regret it in the end. But did he?

"No. You have not betrayed me, and I do not regret loving you. He tilted her head up gently so that he could see her face. It was streaked with tears.

"How can you say that, after what I've just done to you?" she managed to get out through her tears. He did the only thing he could do, and he held her for a time before answering.

"Well, for starters, did you actually even have to tell me about the ritual? It's not like there are a shortage of chances for you to conceive a child, and I wouldn't have even known we were doing anything more than being happy together if you hadn't told me."

"'Tis true, the ritual did not even require your knowledge, much less your consent."

"And do you even have to be present when the Archdemon dies?"

"No, I do not."

"Then how have you betrayed me?" To Morrigan's utter amazement, he had managed to smile. "You warned me from the start, and I wouldn't listen. When you could allow me to be stubborn no longer, you were honest with me. And you intend to fight along side me, even though you don't have to. Where is the betrayal in that?"

Morrigan pursed her lips. For the past year, she had played this conversation over in her mind, studied every possible way it could have gone. This was not one of the scenarios she had envisioned. She suspected he was in shock, and that the true realization of what she'd told him would not register for some time.

"Very well, Warden. I am, truly, sorry."

"Me too. Will you stay at least until the coronation?"

"Aedan, I do not think I should. This is not up for debate. 'Twill only make things harder. For both of us." She looked very sad. He was quite sure she meant the last part.

"I understand that. It isn't time to try to convince you," he said, very softly, like it was very important that he say it right. "It's for me to say goodbye. Will you give me that, at least?"

She looked at him searchingly. _It will not make a difference if you stay another few weeks, except that it will make it harder for me to say goodbye, and I know this_. _But I think he deserves that. He certainly needs it. And perhaps, so do I._ She nodded slowly. "Until the coronation. But no longer."

He nodded and gathered her close one more time. He closed his eyes. Morrigan was unable to see his tears since he was still holding her. He knew exactly what she had said, and knew full well what it meant. In many ways, he wished that the ritual wouldn't have saved his life, and she could have just asked for the child knowing that he would die. Now he knew that he would have to live out the rest of his days knowing he had lost her.


	13. Chapter 12: The First Night

The first night was the worst. All her blankets smelled like him. Everything was still arranged neatly in her pack, the way they had left it together the last time they had set up camp. She even found the dagger he'd misplaced, weeks before, the one he'd been looking for ever since, and unable to find. It was right there, in her herb bag where she'd left it after forgetting she borrowed it. Everything was constantly reminding her of him. He was still with her, even though she was gone. She couldn't stand it, and couldn't even decide if it was because she wanted him gone, or back again. She did not sleep well. She never had, except when she'd been with him. She always woke up during the night, as if determined not to remain in a vulnerable state for long. But with Aedan, instead of waking into vulnerability, she had awoken only into safety. She remembered very clearly how it had felt, the first time she'd felt safe. She'd never felt it before. It felt good. She'd slowly learned to let her guard down, at least for a little while, and eventually, she'd stopped waking in the night and slept peacefully until morning.

Now, (truly) alone in the wilderness, try as she might, she could not stay asleep for more than an hour or two before waking up, nervous. She tried to call back that feeling of security. She'd been able to do so before. There had been nights that they had to sleep separately, for one reason or another, and she'd been able to sleep soundly then, too, even without actually being near him. She'd still felt safe.

She didn't feel safe now.

Her bed had never felt so cold before, even when she was a younger woman, and still with Flemeth. It hadn't felt so bad, climbing into a cold bed. Now she knew what it was to climb into a warm one, and the difference made her hurt. It hurt in her throat, it hurt in her stomach, it even extended over her shoulders and into her arms, and down her legs all the way to tendons above the back of her heels. And from there, into the balls of her feet, and right into her toes. A thousand times she cursed him for ever loving her. If he hadn't, she would have been spared this agony. She had not been happy before, but she had been content. It had been enough. Because she'd briefly been happy, she was now able only to be sad.

But she didn't really mean that. Because she _had_ been happy. Even though she knew she would never, _could_ never, see him again, as much pain as that caused, the pain she felt when she imagined having never felt any of it at all was worse.

She hoped that the second night would be easier.

It wasn't. The first night was the worst, tied with the second. And the night after that, tied with the third, as well. She didn't know how she was going to do it. As she waited miserably (and in vain) for sleep to claim her in the early morning of the fourth night, she hoped only that it would be easier for him.


	14. Chapter 13: What will you do now?

"What will you do now that the Darkspawn are defeated, Warden?" The queen asked him. Aedan didn't hesitate.

"I'm going after Morrigan." His reply came so quickly that Anora was taken aback slightly. She didn't know the Warden very well yet, but she knew that he was close with her new husband and king. She had expected that he would stay as one of his advisors and generals. "Please, your majesty, I can see that is not the answer you were expecting. But this decision is not made rashly. I thought I could do it. I thought I could let her go, move on, but I can't. She's haunted my thoughts and dreams since the moment she walked away, and the loss is crushing me. I know Alistair could use my help, but he doesn't need me." His eyes got a pensive, faraway look for a moment. "I do need her."

Anora nodded. It would have been nice if he had been willing to stay to help cement their new reign, but she was a wise enough woman to know that short of arresting him, she could not stop him, and certainly could not change his mind. And she'd listened to enough of Alistair's stories to know that if she tried that, he'd simply spring himself and leave anyway. Better to give him her blessing, send him off on good terms, and hope that he would eventually return if they needed him.

"As you wish, Warden. You will be missed. There will always be a place for you here should you return."

Aedan bowed graciously. "Thank you, your majesty. By your leave, I will go now to make my preparations. I'll be leaving at first light." The queen had been right. Nothing she could have said or done would have changed the fact that he was leaving in the morning.

Before Anora could formally dismiss him, they were interrupted by the sound of clanking plate mail. A moment later, Alistair opened the door and entered the chamber.

"Aedan! What are you doing with all that ceremony and deference? Get up."

"She is the Queen, Alistair."

"Yes, and she is _my_ wife. You are my brother. Or, at least, might as well be. You do not bow to us. Not ever."

"Yes, m'lord," Aedan replied sarcastically with a half smile. He could never resist a chance to tease Alistair. Some things would never change.

"Oh, forget it, let's go get drunk. All the formal celebrations are finally over, and we finally have some peace and quiet so we can actually relax."

"Sounds good to me." He was right. The last week or so had all been a blur of parades and formal celebrations. It was the kind of thing he had been putting up with his entire life, and this last round was no different from any of the last: boring. It would be good for them to get a chance to decompress out of the public eye. With a respectful nod to Anora, he and Alistair left the chamber for a private dining hall in the next wing of the castle. Now that they were alone, the only sound to be heard was Alistair's armor rattling as he walked. It was silly, but Aedan had never known Alistair to walk around anywhere without a full suit of armor on. It was just one of those things. Now that he was king, it made even less sense, but nobody was going to say anything. Aedan certainly didn't.

Neither of them spoke as they walked, and now that he was finally among the sole company of a trusted friend, began to drop the mask he wore for public consumption. He was supposed to project a happy and joyful demeanor. After all, the war was over, the Darkspawn vanquished, and order restored to the kingdom. To appear as anything else would not only be selfish, it would be disrespectful. But Aedan wasn't anything close to joyful or happy. All he felt was a gaping pain that he could not ease. Where others were celebrating, he was mourning. It felt like a piece of him, the better piece, had been ripped from his throat, chest, and stomach, leaving a dark void of agony that could never be healed.

_It isn't fair_. _I tried to accept it. But I can't. Worse, I don't understand it. I lived. So did she. I love her. She loves me. But she left anyway. _Not for the first time in the last two weeks, Aedan ran his thumb over the gold band he now wore on his left ring finger. He had moved the ring to his left hand after she had left. Except for when he had changed which hand it was on, he had never taken it off. He never intended to again.

On his left, Alistair saw him fingering the ring out of the corner of his eye. He frowned, but said nothing. His frown was not one of disapproval, even though he still wasn't sure how he felt about Morrigan. But Aedan was his best friend in the entire world, a brother even. And for that reason, he trusted him, and respected his choices, even if he didn't always agree with them. No, the frown was one of worry. His friend was in pain, and he was noticing. He had been shocked when Aedan told him about the ritual, and why neither of them had died. But he hadn't been surprised by it. It fit what he knew of her. When Morrigan left after the coronation, he had been. With Morrigan, he had been sure of only two things. First, that he would never, could never, fully trust her, and second, that she loved Aedan, deeper than she would ever admit, was comfortable with, or knew. He had really thought she was going to stay. Alistair supposed that made two of them.

They reached the door to the private hall.

"We don't have to go in there, you know."

"They're in there, right? Everyone, I mean?"

"Yes. Just the six of us."

"This is for them too. Not just me. I owe it to them. They need this."

"You don't have to wear faces for any of them, Aedan. Or me. We're your friends, and we care about you. I didn't have to hear what your response to my wife's question was. Even by Sten's reckoning, we all figured you'd have left after her already. Your gear is already packed. We'll see you off in the morning."

Aedan held his gaze for a moment, searching for something. He nodded slowly. "Thank you, Alistair. I mean it. Let's go on inside."

"That's the spirit." Alistair clapped his friend on the shoulder understandingly, and then opened the door for him.

Aedan's companions stood when he entered. Alistiar gave them all a pained look. "Oh for the love of—what have I told you? None of you need to do that for me!"

"Oh, well that's good to know, Alistair, but we were standing for Aedan, not you," Wynne teased good naturedly.

"Oh. Well, yeah, right then, I knew that."

"Alistair had the right idea. None of you owe me anything, you don't need to stand up every time I enter a room."

Leliana spoke up. "You are wrong, Aedan. All of us owe you everything. I would have died in Lothering if you hadn't taken me with you. Sten would have died in that cage. Wynne would have died in her tower."

He couldn't deny anything she said, but it still didn't feel right. "All those things are true, you are my companions. You risked yourselves for me every day. We all did. We weren't keeping score."

"Yes, we were, but you did these things for us before you even knew us. I don't kid myself. I know I didn't make any difference in the way that barfight turned out. You didn't have to take me along with you. And no normal man would bother to rescue a brooding Qunari who admitted guilt to the charge of murder from a self-imposed cage, let alone arm and equip him without asking for anything in return except that he join the fight against the Darkspawn for as long as he desired, and no longer."

Sten grunted, and said something in Qunari that Aedan didn't understand, though he thought he it might have meant "brother".

Then none of them said anything. Aedan looked around from one to the next, and saw in their eyes that what they had said was true. Finally, his eyes fell upon Dog, who was sitting quietly in the corner wagging his tail. Aedan couldn't help but smile, and that was all the invitation he needed. Dog jumped up and ran over to him, nearly bowling him over with his affections. Alistair was right. He was among friends.

After he regained his dignity, they all sat back down, and Leliana poured them all glasses of wine. "What shall we toast to?" She asked, once everyone had one. When no one said anything, he looked pointedly at Aedan. He took her point, and raised his glass.

"To us. All of us." _Even the one who isn't here right now, _he didn't add. The rest raised their glasses and drank. The act seemed to break the dam of emotions that had kept all of them on edge for nearly a month, with the final battles, the triumph, and the aftermath. It was Alistair who broke the silence.

"I want all of you to know that you all will have a place here, in my court, forever. I wish that we could all stay together, that this could go on forever, but I know in my heart that we won't, and that it can't. But I mean it. You will all be welcome here, always. If you ever need anything, no matter how big or small, you are all officially sanctioned champions of the realm."

Aedan was the first to reply. "Thank you, Alistair. I appreciate what you did for my brother. My title was never that important to me, but knowing that my family's legacy is again secure and that justice was served does make me rest easier."

"Trust me Aedan, it was the least I could do. You'd have done the same."

"I know, but still. Anyway. We haven't really discussed it. What is everyone planning to do now that it's all over?" Everyone looked around at each other, but, as they always did, they just ended up all looking at him expectantly. Aedan sighed. "Alright, since all of you seem to have already placed bets on it, I'll confirm what you already know. I'm going after her. Tomorrow." He waited. Alistair had said they already had figured it out, but he was still afraid how they might take it. Leliana looked sad, but didn't look like what he said was unexpected.

"Aedan, we've all talked about this. We know how you feel about her, and what it did to you when she left. We knew you were going to go after her, even though you swore you would not. Truly, the only surprise here is that you didn't make this decision a week ago."

"Thank you," Aedan whispered softly. They accepted it. They might even understand it.

Alistair cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Anyway, what about the rest of you? Wynne? I could use an advisor. We all know you've done just fine as Aedan's external conscience. I'm going to need all the help I can get. My blood may be noble enough for the Landsmeet, but I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm not afraid to admit that to any of you."

"I'd be honored, Alistair. As for me being Aedan's external conscience, maybe you'll pay me more attention than he did," she said with a motherly smile.

"Thank you, Wynne. I mean it." Alistair looked next to Leliana. "What about you, Lel? Are you ready to settle down again, or do you plan to return to adventure and intrigue?"

Leliana shook her head. "No, Alistair, I will stay, at least for a while. There was nothing for me anywhere else when I joined the two of you, and there is even less now. As for intrigue and adventure, I have had enough of that." She looked from Alistair to Aedan. "I will write a ballad to chronicle our adventures together." Aedan nodded in approval. He was glad that Leliana was going to be safe after he left.

"And after that?" Alistair prodded. Leliana sighed.

"After that, I do not know. But it will take me many weeks to compose. When I am finished, I will perform it before all of Denerim, so that the world may know what we did together. I hope for all our sacrifice and struggle to bring inspiration and courage to those that follow."

"I think that just leaves you, Sten. With Aedan leaving, I will need another general. Or a bodyguard. Perhaps even just a friend." Sten shook his head slowly.

"I cannot, Alistair. I must return to my people. Thanks to Aedan, I have cleansed my sins, and may return to my people without shame. I was sent here to learn of your people, and to report what I found."

"Why?" Alistair asked in confusion. Aedan forgot that he was the only one Sten had talked to about his past.

"Alistair, my people are conquerors. We have had an uneasy peace with your people for a century and a half, but it cannot last forever. I was sent to judge the strength of your lands, your people, and your warriors. My mission was to discover if there are any in Ferelden worthy of our challenge." Alistair frowned. He knew it would not be right to do anything but allow Sten to do what he had to. But he did not look forward to a war with an entire people as ferocious as Sten.

"And what will you tell them?" Aedan asked softly.

Sten looked him squarely in the eyes as he answered. He responded only with a single word: "Yes." Sten held his gaze for several seconds, and then blinked. It was a small thing, but Aedan knew that among Sten's people to be the first to avert your gaze when speaking with another warrior was a sign of weakness. In doing so deliberately, Sten had quietly admitted inferiority. Aedan could not recall a Qunari ever admitting that to a Ferelden before. "I hope that a war between our people will not come, Warden, but I have no illusions about the future. All I will say is that if it does, I will not seek you out on the battlefield."

"Nor I you, Sten."

They were all quiet for several minutes. The last year had been the most trying of their lives, but they were only now, after it was all over, about to realize their most painful loss: in a few weeks, they would have all gone their separate ways, and in all likelihood would never see each other again.

As was fitting, it was Leliana who tried to break the bittersweet mood. She frowned slightly, struggling not to think of the parting that would inevitably come. She had never liked Morrigan, but Leliana was a creature of goodness, and ignored her dislike of the woman, seeing instead only the pain that her loss was causing Aedan. That pain was something that they might be able to help him with.

"Aedan, let's talk about your journey. Where will you go? Where will you look?"

Aedan thought about it for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and produced an ornate scroll case. "I'm not sure," he said as he opened the case and spread a slightly outdated but flawless military map of Ferelden over the table. Alistair's eyes got wide.

"Aedan, is that… is that one of the copies from the Archives?!" Aedan only smiled. "How did you! Where did you! You can't have—"

Aedan wiggled his eyebrows and fingers suggestively. "Oh, you know, sticky fingers." He picked up his goblet to take a sip of wine, and then, as an afterthought, raised a finger in a "wait a moment" gesture, and took his time about swallowing the wine. It was all for show, obviously, and Aedan was enjoying every moment of it. "Oh, by the way Alistair, here's your ring back. I had to borrow it to do the paperwork to release the map into my possession." Aedan pulled a small velvet bag out of his belt and tossed it across the table to Alistair, who opened it to find his official royal seal inside. He frowned, half in annoyance, and half in wonder.

"You could have just asked, you know." He was doing his best to be serious, but everyone could see a smile beginning to form on his lips.

"Yeah, that's true, I could have. But you were busy, and this was quicker." He winked mischievously. "Besides, this was more fun anyway." Alistair finally lost his battle with the muscles in his face and broke out in a grin, and shook his head.

"By the way, Alistair, are you ever going to ask me about your gold pouch?" Aedan asked innocently. The color drained out of Alistair's face as he frantically began going through his pockets, until he found his pouch, untouched, exactly where he'd left it. Alistair glared at Aedan through eyes slitted in mock anger.

"Gotcha." Aedan couldn't help but laugh good naturedly at the joke he'd made at his friend's expense.

"I'm glad you're on our side, Aedan. You'd be a dangerous man to have as an enemy." He raised his glass in another toast to his friend, and Aedan held up his glass and took a small seated bow. They all drank. Aedan set his glass back down, and began pointing out terrain features on the map.

"She mentioned the Frostback mountains a lot. I think she's going to be headed there. But that's a long way from here, and I think that I can probably catch up to her if I'm smart about where I look and get lucky."

Leliana wrinkled her brows. "But it would only take her days to get there as a bird. How will you ever catch her?"

"A very good point, but in this case it doesn't apply. She can't change shape right now. I'm not sure it it's because of the ritual itself, or because she's pregnant. All the said is that it might hurt the child, so I know she won't be flying anywhere. It will be on foot or nothing. She sure as hell isn't going to ask anyone to help her, and she can't ride a horse worth a damn. I know; I tried to teach her."

They spent the next hour going over routes and debating the merits of various places it might be worthwhile to look for her. When they were done, Aedan's map was a mess of circles, arrows, and traced routes. Who knew if any of it would make any difference, but at least it was a start. As the night wore on, they said their goodnights as they went to bed one by one. They all agreed to see him off at dawn, so they postponed their final goodbyes. Finally, only Alistair and Aedan remained. The two of them sat in quiet contemplation. Aedan was staring absentmindedly at his dog, who lay asleep in the corner, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. _At least one of us seems relaxed about all of this_, he thought. Alistair's voice startled him out of his introspection.

"Do you think you'll find her?" Aedan kept staring at the wall, and pursed his lips and thought about it before answering.

"I honestly don't know," he said, turning his gaze back toward his friend. "I hope so."

"And if you don't?"

_Then _ _I won't come back_, he thought. "Then I'll keep looking."

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes!" Aedan slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair in an uncharacteristic outburst of anger. "I can't just sit here, Alistair. I have to do this. I can't even explain what the loss I feel feels like. It's like a wall of blackness where my future would be. When I dream, it's like my soul is drenched in oil and ignited night after night, and I wake up screaming."

"I know, Aedan," Alistair said softly. "I'm your best friend. You don't have to explain any of it to me. I know you have to do this, and I've already told you I support you. Is there anything else you need that I can provide you with? Anything that will make this task easier?"

"I can't think of anything. Basic provisions, maybe, but I already have those. Weapons I've got covered, and thanks to this map I know where I'm going. Possibly some travelling papers in case I need something official-looking, but by my title I don't need them anyway. So no, I really don't think there's anything else I need."

"Well, all the resources of the kingdom are here if you change your mind. Just remember that."

"I will. Thank you." They didn't say anything for several minutes. Aedan just watched the fire, and his dog roll over restlessly in his sleep.

"We've sure come a long way, haven't we Alistair?"

"What, from two scared junior Wardens alone against the world?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"I'd say so."

The two sat there, well into the night. Eventually, Alistair retired, leaving his friend alone. Aedan sat there until dawn, absentmindedly rubbing the ring on his left hand. He still didn't understand why she'd left. He'd understood that she was deeply conflicted about her deception, but he didn't care about that. He believed that the feelings she'd shown for him were real, and that even if she'd started her journey with ulterior motives, the two facts didn't invalidate each other. There was no reason that she couldn't have been hiding her reason and also loved him. None of it really mattered though. She was gone regardless, and she had told him not to follow.

But he'd follow, regardless.


	15. Chapter 14: Snow Camp

He had been gone for nearly six months, and he still hadn't found her. For months, he hadn't even gotten close, despite her having a only a few weeks' head start. Maddeningly, even though he knew, roughly, where she was going, he had not been able to find her. Of course, she didn't want to be found. She had made that part clear enough. That made it harder. After the first few months, he got discouraged, and began to believe that he may never find her, and that he really might not ever see her again. But he persevered.

And, two months ago, he had finally gotten close. He had heard news of a dark haired woman, young, pregnant, and alone, passing through a small village high in the Frostback Mountains. She had stayed only one night, and was gone before morning. It was a long shot, surely, but it was the best he'd had so far. He had heard other murmurings about a mage woman, and he had followed up on them, but the other leads hadn't included the child. There had been dark haired women who weren't mages, mages who weren't even women, even a dark haired woman with child who may or may not have been a mage, but she'd turned out to be a redhead. This one was different. He could feel it.

He had to be careful now, because in recent weeks he had begun to suspect that his old companions were looking for him. He had promised he would be gone no more than six months, that he would send word of his progress, and more importantly, his location, should he be needed. He had done none of those things. After the first month, he had had enough of the whole "Hero of Ferelden" business and left all traces of his identity behind, save his first name. When he heard about this latest lead, he had abandoned that too, and had even considered leaving his Mabari behind in one of the villages he passed for safekeeping. His dog was his only companion, and a more loyal friend could not be found, but having one along was a dead giveaway wherever he went. The villagers may not recognize the significance of one, but Mabari were unusual, and when rumors reached those who did, they would know where he was just as surely as if he'd been writing his progress reports the entire time.

In the end, however, he couldn't abandon his faithful hound. He had to make do with removing its war paint and dying its hair black. He had debated shaving its fur, too, but had decided against it. Winter was coming, and it wasn't exactly warm in the mountains.

If he was correct in his navigation, he felt he should be less than a day from Darronshire, the village that he hoped Morrigan had passed through. Unfortunately, it wasn't guaranteed that his navigation was spot-on, and it was about to snow again. A bad storm, maybe even a blizzard, by the looks of it. Aedan (or Adam, as he now called himself), sat down on a cold rock and took off his pack. Navigational mistakes and storms aside, he hadn't eaten in over a day, and hadn't stopped for more than enough time to skin a rabbit the day before yesterday since the previous fortnight. Dog had not complained, but, now, seeing that his master had opened the Sacred Bag That Held The Food, he trotted over and began to sniff.

"Yes, Dog, you're right, I am opening the snack bag. And to be honest, I may pitch the tent, too. I don't think that we'd be able to beat the storm to the village, even if my navigation were perfect. I'd rather be caught out here in a properly set up camp and knowing I'm not going to die, even if it means it delays us getting to the village by a week. What about you?"

Dog barked enthusiastically. Most people thought that Mabari only recognized tone, like most other dogs, but Aedan knew differently. They were nearly as intelligent as humans, and he knew full well that Dog was agreeing with him because he thought he was right, not just because he wanted a snack. He dug around in his pack for a moment longer before bringing out the last of the Mrbari Crunch. "Here you go, Dog. This is the last one we have, and I don't think I'll be able to bake you more for some time. Enjoy it."

Dog barked happily, and began to pant with his tongue hanging out, but he didn't take the treat. Aedan knew what Dog wanted, and threw it as hard as he could. It flew well over a hundred feet, and landed with a soft plop in a snowbank.

"Looks like you'll have to dig for it, boy. Oh well. I'll have a fire going by the time you get back."

Dog went tearing after the treat and began digging furiously through the snow. Several minutes later his determination was rewarded when he climbed back out of the snowbank holding the treat in his mouth. He chomped it down happily, and then turned around in a circle three times to pack down a spot to lie down. Aedan took notice, but did not worry. Until the blizzard actually started, Dog was in no danger of freezing. His thick coat was more than sufficient protection against the cold. His own coat, however, was a different story. He turned back to the task of getting a fire lit.

The snow and wind hit later that night, right on schedule. When morning came, it showed no signs of letting up. They ran out of wood late the next afternoon, and Aedan and his Mabari huddled together to stave off hypothermia all through the next day. Finally, on the third day, the wind finally died down, and it stopped snowing. As they emerged from their tent, they saw a landscape changed. All discernable landmarks were eradicated, obscured by a blanket of white. Worse yet, the snow was more than chest deep, and even getting out of the tent took hours. It was a miracle the damn thing hadn't simply collapsed on them.

_I'm not going to make it_, he realized. _She'll just melt a path through if she has to. She can't keep that up forever, but it will still be faster than me having to dig just to move._ Frustrated, Aedan began to assemble his snow shoes. He had never used them before other than to practice with them before he left. He was doubtful of the prospect of their usefulness, but he had to try. In a fortunate turn of good luck, they held him when he tried to stand. Not fast, but he could walk. Dog posed a more difficult problem. He had no way to similarly equip the hound, and he had to make a primitive sled out of the tent, and drag the dog behind him. It was slow going, but they were at least moving again. Neither of them had eaten since before the storm began.

The weather held. Two and a half days later, exhausted and starving, they arrived in Darronshire. A few heads turned, but people more or less left him alone. He headed straight for the inn to inquire about Morrigan. As he burst through the doors, the warmth and smell of hot stew overtook him, and he decided his inquiries could wait half an hour to get some food. He couldn't find Morrigan if he died of starvation. He approached the counter, and slapped silver on the table. The innkeeper grunted, and served him a bowl and some scraps for his dog. It was probably terrible, but Aedan could not tell. He hadn't eaten in nearly a week.

Once he was done, he looked around. It was a relatively nice place, considering how far out it was. The walls were sturdy, and in any event the roof didn't leak. When the innkeeper came by again, Aedan stopped him.

"Friend, I'm looking for someone that I think may have passed through here in the last few weeks."

"What did your friend look like? We don't get many outside guests here this time of year. I probably saw him."

"Her," Aedan corrected. "It was a her. Dark hair. Pregnant."

The innkeeper narrowed his eyes.

"You're after that scary mage woman. Friend, trust me, you don't want anything to do with that one."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"She's an apostate for sure. Perhaps even a maleficarum."

"I'll risk it. The child is mine." _That probably sounds more convincing than 'I love her'_, he thought.

"Ah. Well, she made me promise that if any man came here looking for her, I was to tell him nothing. She made me promise at knife point, as a matter of fact."

Aedan couldn't help but smile. That was Morrigan, alright. His heart pounded. He was so close! There was a slight jingle as he dropped a large purse of coin on the counter. The innkeeper's eyes dropped slowly to behold the glittering from within. He looked back at Aedan.

"Well, now that you mention it, that knife of hers isn't here right now, is it? She's headed further north. Might make for the pass near Ozrammar. I only know it because I stole a glance at the map she was using as I served her. The pass was circled."

Aedan's heart fell. He had circled Ozrammar on the map himself, a year ago. He'd given it to when she left. She wasn't headed to Ozrammar.

He had nothing.

All this way, this close! She'd been _here_. Right here! But it did him no good. He'd send out word to the outlying villages, yes, but he knew in his heart Morrigan would not have been this careless twice. He suspected he'd confirm that tomorrow, if the shopkeepers told him she'd bought supplies. She'd be camping again. Which meant there was no way to track her, just the way she wanted it. _Dammit!_

"Can you tell me, did she stay here, or move on immediately?"

"She stayed. Didn't pay, either. Left before dawn."

"How much for a room?" The innkeeper told him. Aedan tossed him twice that amount. "Consider her room paid for. I want the same one she stayed in." He received a key.

When he climbed the stairs and found the right room, he paused a minute before entering. The man had said they hadn't received any travelers since she'd come through. No one had stayed in this room since. He wondered if he might find something of hers there. He doubted it. But he went in anyway. The sweet scent of dragonflower greeted his nose as he entered. _She would wear the perfume I gave her out here? Why? _The truth was that she missed him, and had opened the bottle because he had given it to her. But he had no way of knowing that, so he just wondered, and was sad. He climbed into the bed. The blankets and pillow still smelled like her. _Perhaps this inn is not as good as I'd initially thought,_ he mused idly.

Aedan curled into a ball, and wept. There was no one to see him, but he would not have been ashamed if there had. He wouldn't have even noticed them. Eventually, when he had exhausted his tears, he lapsed into a fitful sleep.

And he dreamed.

He dreamed of bad things. His kingdom crumbling. The darkspawn returning. His friends dying. He was not sure, but he thought he could make out Wynne in the dream, begging him to return. She said they needed his help. When he awoke, he realized that she probably had been. Everyone went into the fade when they dreamed, and it was not beyond the realm of possibility that Wynne was trying to pass him a message. She knew he was attuned enough to the fade that he might hear it. It would certainly fit with the desperate messages that had reached him, that had caused him to abandon his identity in order to continue his search unhindered.

He would have to go back. He felt like she had left all over again, the wounds of his soul, which he thought had healed, but had only really been bandaged by his quest, ripped open anew. He was never going to find her. The thought tore through him. But far worse, he had to give up. At least while he was looking, there was a chance he would succeed. It wasn't certain that he wouldn't find her. But by giving up, he was not only admitting that it was true, he was _causing_ it to be true. He didn't know if he could do it.

Deep in his heart, he knew he was stalling the inevitable. In another few months, the child would be born, and then she would be able to move about more freely. She was as smart a woman as he'd ever met, and just as cunning. If she didn't want to be found, he'd never find her. It was as simple as that. He had to face facts.

Slowly, Aedan gathered his belongings and headed downstairs. He gave a passing nod to the innkeeper as he returned the key.

"Thank you, good sir. What did you say your name was?"

Aedan hesitated. What did it matter, if he was going back? "My name is Aedan." He left, without another backward glance, and the innkeeper would spend the next several years of his life wondering if it had really been _the_ Aedan who had passed through his inn in pursuit of a dark haired, pregnant apostate.

It took Aedan many weeks to reach Denerim. Over that time, his emotional wounds healed over, but only in the same was as scar tissue will cover an infected wound that doesn't kill you. Underneath, they were still tender, still hurt him, and would never, ever, go away for as long as he lived. When he reached his friends, they found him a changed man. Gone was the lightness, the quick smile. He was only sad, and empty.


	16. Chapter 15: A Winter Birth

_The witch knew she was going to give birth soon. She didn't need magical powers to tell her that. It was exactly 275 days after the ritual. 270 since she'd seen him. She'd been counting, without realizing it. But there was no doubt in her mind. She knew. _

_ And she despaired. _

_ She didn't know how she was supposed to do this alone. Childbirth was dangerous. She didn't want to die, and she didn't want the child to die either. She didn't want help. She didn't want to go anywhere near the settlements, though she didn't know what she was hiding from. He had already turned back, given up. She could feel it. She knew what it had cost him, what it had done to him, to turn back and admit that he was never going to find her._

_ That, too, caused her pain._

_ He had come very close to finding her. Part of her had wanted him to. Part of her still did. She had suffered through yet another sleepless night deciding whether she should just stay there, in that village, and wait for him. It would have been easy. _

_ But she had left anyway. _

_ She groaned in pain. _The child will be here soon, _she thought to herself again. She knew she had to get help with the delivery. It was folly to try to do it alone in the middle of winter, but she did not trust people. Despite what he'd tried to show her, the memories of what had happened to her so often in little villages like the ones she knew she would have to go to eventually were still burned into her mind, and she could not forget them. _

_ She'd have to do it anyway. _

_ She didn't have long to pick one. They were far apart, and she could not move quickly. She estimated she had days before it was time. Just enough time to scout one more village, and make it to the next if she found it unsuitable._

_ She hoped, anyway._

_ Luck was with her. The first village she came to looked like it would do, though she remained cautious. Looks could be deceiving. She received fewer strange looks than she would have expected, arriving like this, pregnant, alone, in the middle of winter. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad. When she arrived at the inn, she looked around before entering. There weren't very many people out, but it was cold out. Having no other choice, she bit her lip and entered, glad, at least, that he had insisted she accept some coins in case this sort of thing happened._

_ Glad, that is, that she'd listened._

_ The door was heavy and dark, and quite old. It had seen many winters, and would likely see many more. Sturdy. It made her feel safer entering there, though she knew it was no reason that made sense. Many bad things came in nice packages. _

_ She stumbled through the door and into the warmth within. There were several tables, all carved out of rough wood. Most of them were empty. Despite the small number of patrons, a fire roared in the massive hearth on the wall, a stuffed hala head mounted above it, a large fur rug spread out in front of it. _

_ It gave her pause that a man was behind the counter, and she almost left. She had trusted exactly two men in her entire life. After the mistake that trusting the first had turned out to be, it was a wonder she'd ever trusted a second. She was older now, and knew how to protect herself and fend off unwelcome advances. But she still did not like to let others see her vulnerable._

_ And she was vulnerable indeed._

_ She looked again at the man behind the counter. The man looked stern. A moment later, a matronly woman appeared from around the corner, and his face dissolved into warmth. Sshe relaxed. She watched the husband as he looked at his wife, as if she were the only thing in the world he could see, and her heart sank. _Was that how he looked at me? _She wondered. She cursed herself for the thousandth time since she'd left. She wasn't sure she'd made the right decision._

_ But it was done. She was gone. _

_ She sat down at the nearest table, and the proprietor's wife nodded to her from across the room. She disappeared, and then reappeared a moment later carrying a bowl of stew and a loaf of bread. The witch felt strange. Almost sick. And then she felt pain. She took her cloak off to give herself more air. As soon as she did, the proprietress's eyes got wide, and she set the soup down, forgotten. _

_ She didn't notice it. The pain was getting worse._

_ "Maker's breath, child, are you going into labor?" She kneeled down, and put a concerned hand on the witch's shoulder._

Am I? Is that what this is?_ She couldn't help but laugh. Judging by the confused look the other woman gave her, she didn't think she understood why. But that was okay with the witch. She didn't either. _

_ "Child, let's get you horizontal." She looked over her shoulder at her husband, and yelled instructions: "Find the midwife, this girl's about to give birth!" The few other patrons looked at each other nervously, as if trying to decide what they could do. The proprietress saw that, and called one of them over. "Help her to the first room on the left, here's the key. I've got to make preparations."_

_ The witch grabbed her hand, her eyes wide with terror. _Don't leave me alone_, they screamed. The proprietress's eyes flicked from the witch to the patron, nodded quickly, and took over. "Fine, you go get water boiling, I'll get her to a room."_

_ It was a short walk to the first room, but it seemed to the witch that it took forever. The woman helped her into bed, and stayed with her, gently stroking her forehead, all the while yelling at the patron she'd deputized to hurry up with the water. _

_ "Where is your husband, child?"_

_ For the second time, the witch laughed, but quickly stopped when it hurt. This time, she knew why she laughed though._

_ "I have no husband, you silly old bat." She grimaced in pain, and regretted her snide tone. This woman was helping her, and she was completely vulnerable. The woman was not offended, however. She was wise, and was beginning to piece the situation together._

_ "Child, was this forced on you?" She asked, very gently._

_ "What? Of course not, and I was not raped, either."_

_ "So the father, he didn't hurt you?"_

_ "No, never. Probably the only man in all of Ferelden that I trust, as it turns out." This confused the woman. Clearly, she didn't understand the situation after all._

_ "Then why did you leave?"_

_ "How do you know, woman, that he did not leave me?"_

_ The woman just raised an eyebrow._

_ "Alright, I left. Are you satisfied?"_

_ "Did he love you?" She pressed._

_ "Yes." The certainty with which the strange young woman answered the question surprised the older woman. There was only one question left to ask._

_ "Did you love him?"_

_ The witch didn't answer. But the look in her eyes told the woman that yes, she had, and still did. Neither of them said anything for a time. Eventually, the witch's breathing eased, and it looked like the baby would not be born immediately after all. The old woman watched and waited, until she thought the young woman was asleep. She whispered, softly: "So I did understand. You did not want caged, and you had it through your head that love means shackles. Love does not mean that at all. It could, with the wrong man, but not usually. Love meant sacrifices, though, to be sure." _

_ Thinking that the sleeping girl hadn't heard her words, she got up quietly to go and let her rest. The witch had not been asleep, and had heard every word. She called out softly as she reached the door._

_ "Is it worth it?" The older woman stopped, and turned back towards the bed before answering._

_ "Yes. If you find the right man." Her eyes were closed, so she could not see the woman's faraway look, and the slight curl of her smile as she answered, but she could hear it in her voice. The door closed softly, and the witch was left alone with her thoughts. She had much to ponder._

_ She had thought many things impossible, but she hoped, again, that if she could find such an unlikely thing as generosity, that he might find something as unlikely as peace._


	17. Chapter 16: Bloodlust and Deathwish

Aedan ignored the pathetic cries of the wounded around him, and waded headlong into the carnage. The darkspawn had broken their lines, and it was shaping up to be a massacre. The artillery support from the engineer brigades had never materialized, and his section of the line had been counting on the oil bombs those catapults would have delivered to slow the enemy advance on their position. The terrain was terrible, but it had to be held.

Their position could have been better, but it had not been intended to be a stationary or permanent position. They had only stopped their drive to flank the darkspawn army to rest for a few hours, but they'd been cut off, and forced to stay and hold. When they'd first realized it, Aedan had been concerned, but not worried. _Forget advancing, though, _he thought. Now, hours later, with no support and the number of killed and wounded climbing by the minute, it was more like _forget holding, let's just try and survive_.

The first few waves hadn't been too bad. They still had a contingent of crossbowmen, and the heavy Ferelden bolts easily pierced the darkspawn breastplates. Those had run out an hour ago. Now the longest range at which they would engage the enemy was the length of a spear. Still, things weren't going too badly. At least ten darkspawn were falling for every human, but even at such a favorable rate, there were only so many of the humans. There were many more darkspawn.

Finally, about fifteen minutes earlier, the darkspawn had managed to concentrate a wave enough to break through the spear hedges and close with them up close and in force, overwhelming the shield wall with sheer numbers. Things had gotten bloody after that. Too close for spears, it was darkspawn blade against human studded leather. The spearmen had been slaughtered before the heavy infantry were able to move forward enough to make a difference. Aedan cursed himself for holding them in reserve, though he knew that it wasn't his fault. If he'd stacked the heavy infantry deeper, the spear hedges wouldn't have been as thick, and their lines would have collapsed long before this. Unfortunately, knowing that he had probably made the right call didn't change the fact that his troops were dying.

Aedan drew his daggers as he trod over the bodies of the dead to reach the black skinned demons. He had forgone heavy armor and shield this time in favor of his lighter chain mail. He wasn't as well protected, but he wasn't worried about that. He was an absolute terror to be seen in light armor wielding daggers. His blades swept through his foes effortlessly, the cuts precise and efficient. The breastplates of the enemy were strong, so he didn't go for the chest. He went for the neck, or the armpit, or the legs. Blood sprayed across his chest as he pulled his left dagger from the leg of his latest victim. The Hurlock had gone down, as it is impossible to stand with only one hamstring. But it was still moving. Aedan casually stomped sharply on its throat and moved on, ignoring the gurgling it made as it clutched its throat, trying in vain to draw breath through a shattered trachea.

The next set came at him together, and he ducked their clumsy attacks and swung his daggers up in an arc, cleanly severing each of their jugulars. He stepped past the pair,reversed the grip on his right dagger, brought it up in a backhanded parry, and drove his left clean through the breastplate and into the stomach of the next nearest foe. Its guts spilled out as he withdrew the knife, and the smell hit his nose a moment later. He ignored it. A short one came at him with an axe that was too big for it. Aedan stepped aside calmly as the axe bit through air, and kicked it in the chest, sending it flying backwards. He ducked a few arrows (no doubt poisoned, but he didn't worry about it), sheathed a dagger, blood and all, and picked up a spear that was conveniently stuck in the body of a nearby soldier. He drove it into the prone darkspawn, pinning it to the earth through its belly. He paused, out of breath, to survey the situation. The bodies of dozens of enemies lay around him, mixed in with the broken corpses of his men. Aedan's heart was pounding, but the part of his mind that wasn't focused on the task at hand mused idly that it felt dead in his chest to him. He felt nothing.

The impact of the genlock mace against the side of his head came as a surprise. Aedan suddenly regretted not wearing his helmet as his vision faded to blackness. _Sloppy_, he would have thought, if he were still conscious.

He awoke hours later in a hospital tent, and realized bitterly that he was disappointed. Not that they hadn't lost, but that he'd survived. He hadn't wanted to, and he knew it. He lay there for a time, listening to the agonized screams of the wounded as the surgeons did their best to save those they could. Eventually, the wind blew the tent flap open, and he was able to see the stacks of body parts that the surgeons had cut from the men they were trying to save. _That's really bad for morale_, he mused. After a moment, he decided to see if he could get up to do something about it. He got about as far as verifying that he could move his toes before the king bent down under the flap and entered the tent.

"Hello, Alistair. Forgive me for not getting up."

"Maker's mercy, Aedan, I'm glad you made it." _I'm not_, Aedan didn't reply.

"You should do something about the amputated parts. They shouldn't be in plain view like that."

Alistair wrinkled his brow in confusion. "What are you talking about, Aedan?"

"The stacks! They're piled up like planks, just over there!" He tried to raise his arm to point, but Alistair grabbed his arm and wouldn't let him. He just looked at him, quietly.

"Aedan, there aren't any body parts stacked up outside. They're being burned as soon as they're cut, like always."

_Did I only imagine them, then?_ _Lovely. Hallucinations._

"Oh. Well, if you'll help me, I'd like to get up now."

Alistair frowned, but knew he couldn't force his friend to stay lying down. He wasn't able to force him to do anything. Never had been. He extended his hand, and Aedan took it, grasping hand to wrist. With Alistair's help, he was able to pull himself into a sitting position. The world promptly began to spin.

"Aedan, I'm not sure about this. I know you've never listened to anything I have to say, but this would be a really good time to start."

"Nonsense." Aedan did his best to grin, but the effort required made him want to vomit. He got to his feet, and promptly threw up, or at least tried to. He hadn't eaten since the morning before he got hit. _Damn_, he thought,_ this must be one hell of a concussion_. When he was through, he got weakly to his knees.

"Help me put my armor back on," he said to Alistair grimly, ignoring the horrified protest in his eyes. Alistair held his gaze for a moment, then turned away to do as his friend had asked. Aedan slowly climbed all the way to his feet, using the cot for support. He began dry heaving again. Alistair looked at him over his shoulder, and shook his head. Aedan had a death wish, and he knew it. Knew it but couldn't do anything about it. He carried the mail tunic back over to Aedan, and helped him to redo the buckles after he slipped it on over his head.

"Aedan, the men told me what happened."

"Were we able to hold?"

"Yes, your force held. They wouldn't have, if you hadn't entered the fray at the last minute like that. You probably saved the entire detachment."

"Good for us then." Alistair tried not to wince at his friend's sarcastic tone.

"That wasn't what I was talking about, Aedan. The men are terrified. They know they owe you their lives, but they don't even want to be around you."

Aedan chuckled cynically. "Why?"

"They're afraid of you. They said you turned into a beast, nearly dancing through the bodies of your enemies. They said you looked like you were enjoying it."

_I was_, _Alistair…I was_. "And?"

"And that's not normal. Even for you."

Aedan sighed. "Yes, I know. And I don't deny it." For a moment, his mask slipped, and Alistair saw the full emotionally agony of his friend written on his face. He could only describe it as haunted. Alistair shook his head.

"What's happened to you, Aedan? You didn't used to be like this."

Aedan finished buckling his weapons back in place, and made to leave the tent. Alistair was in his way. His eyes challenged Alistair silently, but when he realized Alistair wasn't going to move, he simply stepped around him and exited without answering. Alistair didn't turn around, and he didn't go after him. He stood in the tent a moment longer, thinking. He knew what the men were saying. That the Warden had seen too much death, and that it had changed him. But he knew better. He and Aedan had waded through far more death than this together, and it had never had any effect on him.

He knew in his heart that it was Morrigan. She'd taken a piece of Aedan with her when she left, and one of the better pieces at that. When he returned after failing to find her, he came back with even less. There was no life left in him; no spark. He went through the motions, and was still a brilliant general, and an even better fighter, but his friend was hollow. He'd gotten even worse after his daughter was born. He still didn't understand how he'd just _known _that Morrigan had given birth, but he believed it when Aedan had told him. Alistair knew he wasn't sleeping well, and when he did he talked in his sleep. But there was nothing to be done about it. They had to finish the job. Tomorrow, there would be more dying, and more killing.

There would be many more sacrifices to make before it was over, but Alistair was afraid he'd already suffered about the only loss that mattered. He hoped that his friend would eventually recover, and become his old self again, but he was losing hope. _Perhaps when this is over, he'll be able to heal_, he lied to himself. Like any lie, if he told it to himself enough times, he hoped he'd start to believe it. But Alistair had always been a terrible liar.


	18. Chapter 17: Stuck in the Fade

"Wynne, what's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, Alistair. Although I have theories."

Alistair frantically motioned for her to go on.

"He's my friend too, Alistair. I'm doing the best I can."

Alistair sighed. "I know, Wynne. I know. But I'm worried."

"Me too. He is lost in the fade, Alistair."

"What? How?"

Wynne's gaze was focused on Aedan's left hand, where even now, lost and adrift in the spirit world, he still stroked the ring. She looked up at Alistair, and said simply:

"Her."

Alistair looked like she'd slapped him. "Morrigan is doing this to him?! That bitch! After everything he did for her! After what he went through to try to find—" Wynne was shaking her head.

"No, Alistair, not at all. You and I trusted the witch least of all, but even we know she would never hurt Aedan. Never." She sighed. "No, I'm afraid Aedan has done this to himself, because of her." Alistair's expression went from angry to confused.

"I still don't understand."

"Normally, when a person dreams, they go to the fade. When they wake up again, they return here, to our plane, and they wake. Aedan is stuck in between."

"Is this because of his fade affinity thing?"

Wynne nodded. "Yes. There are reasons those with magical affinity are secreted away in the circle. The danger isn't only to others, but to themselves as well."

"I thought you said that he wasn't powerful enough to do something like this?"

"He isn't, but he is sensitive to it. The fade, I mean. Never did I imagine that he could manage something like this."

"I thought you were teaching him to control it?"

"Yes, I was. Mostly I was teaching him to control it so that he would not accidentally bridge a spirit that he didn't intend to, or experience things he did not wish to. But part of that training was so that he couldn't get himself lost in the fade, either. Unlike most humans, who just go to the fade to dream, Aedan can stay there, like a mage, if he wants. He can even navigate it, as we've seen. But not perfectly. He only has affinity, not full power. If he wasn't careful, he could get himself there, but not get back. It could even happen during a dream, if he forgot what I taught him." _Or stopped caring,_ she didn't add, but Alistair's knowing look led her to believe he'd had the same thought.

Alistair closed his eyes and nodded gravely. But he knew Wynne didn't speak the full story. Aedan hadn't been himself in a very long time. Not since before he left to try to find Morrigan. He had been vacant long before the battles of the Afterblight, and the hard choices they'd had to make.

"So you think he just let go?"

"Yes. He had no anchor, Alistair. Aedan's relationship with Morrigan was, is, different than most. That is partly a product of our first unwilling trip into the fade together, but also because the two of them are both so powerful, and so very unique. But why it is so is not important. The fact remains that their spirits are actually metaphysically joined."

"Do you mean that they are soulmates?" Alistair asked incredulously. He couldn't quite stomach something as cliché as that.

"No, Alistair, that's just a term used in fairy tales. But, I guess the terminology is actually accurate, now that I think about it. They are not soulmates. But their souls themselves are mated."

"I don't know if I can believe that. How do you know this?"

Wynne frowned. "Alistair, am I the most spiritually sensitive mage you have ever known, or not?"

"Right, I rest my case. But seriously, how do you know?  
"I've seen it. I've watched his aura very, very closely the last few months. When he thinks of her, his spirit goes elsewhere. When he gets that faraway look in his eyes, and starts rubbing her ring, he is actually projecting part of himself."

"So the ring is the key?"

"No. It is only an amplifier. I do not think he is sensitive enough to see the connection without it, but it is there without the ring's help."

"How do you know that she didn't just, you know, capture his spirit or something? You're right, I don't think she'd ever hurt him, but that wouldn't be out of character for her, I don't think."

"No, it wouldn't, and it remains a possibility, but I doubt it. You see, when I first met them, both of their auras were distinct, though even then they had probably already begun to merge. By the time she left, I could not tell by spirit alone which was which. I had to use my eyes. That kind of magic even I could not do, and there is no reason that she would have even if she could. It wouldn't serve any purpose. What good would it do to capture someone's spirit, if it irreparably intermixed it with your own in the process? You would gain no control or power from it. Only a link. And Morrigan is afraid of connection, of any kind.

"No, she did not do this. This… just happened."

"So this isn't normal right? Most people in love don't do this?"

Wynne shook her head vigorously. "No, they do not. This is… unusual, to say the least."

"So that's how he knew that his daughter had been born, that day on the battlefield." Alistair shivered, remembering that black, rainy, bloody day, when Aedan had looked at him and quietly told him "My daughter was just born," just before the two of them charged the darkspawn lines. He changed the subject.

"Is it a bad thing? I mean, is it dangerous?"

"In itself? No. But, like love, it has consequences. Hurting one of them hurts both. And separation will damage them."

"And this could only happen if it was mutual, right? Aedan couldn't have done this on his own?"

"No, only if Morrigan loved him just as strongly as he her."

"Huh. If it didn't worry me so much to see him like this, I might laugh. The irony is not lost on me."

"Nor I, Alistair." They smiled.

"So what about her?"

"You mean, is this hurting her as much as it is hurting him?"

He nodded.

Wynne thought about it, and sighed. "I don't know, Alistair. Is she feeling _something_? Almost without a doubt, yes. But she is so full of confusion and doubt. I don't know if she'll ever understand why it is she hurts. She may just go the rest of her life in isolation, falling deeper and deeper into herself, like Aedan did. Or she might not. I don't know." Wynne shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

"I hate what this love has done to him."

"Me too, dear. But I wouldn't change events even if I could."

"How can you say that! This has destroyed him!"

Wynne shook her head slowly and smiled. "No, Alistair, it's saved him. Our Warden has struggled with darkness his entire life. He is a powerful noble, and what path did he take? He's a master rogue that could rival even the Crows. He has studied both stealth and poison. He may walk in the light, but he is at heart a creature of the shadows. The murder of his family could have been a great catalyst for that darkness to be released. You saw a hint of that during the second conflict."

Alistair nodded grimly, remembering the bloody battles of the Afterblight. "No warmth. No pity. The soldiers who once loved him began to fear him. He never did anything strictly _bad, _but he just seemed to get so lost in the slaughter. I had to force him to retire the field before he got himself killed. He wasn't even wearing armor anymore, toward the end. "

"Oddly enough, Morrigan's influence had only a positive effect on him."

"Wynne, that makes no sense at all. Morrigan was nothing if not selfish and cruel. She didn't care a damn about others."

"No, she didn't," Wynne agreed. "She was completely insensitive to the plights of others. I suspect that her voicing so vehemently what he secretly may have thought sometimes allowed him to gather the strength to do what was right, rather than what would have been convenient."

"So the most dishonest woman alive is the only reason Aedan stayed honest?"

"Not quite. Aedan is a good and honest man. But he is still a man, with all the usual human foibles. It takes a lot out of a man to make the right choice over the easy choice. Morrigan always advocated the easy, practical choices. Sometimes, she was absolutely right. Other times, seeing how it sounded to hear her actually say what he was thinking helped bring things into perspective for him. If he could stomach what she was suggesting, then so be it. If he couldn't, it meant he had to find another way. She was not so much a compass as a very, very honest mirror." The two of them looked at Aedan for a while. Eventually, Alistair broke the silence.

"So how do we help Aedan?"

Wynne looked up from Aedan's sleeping body and at Alistair. "I'll have to go into the fade and look for him. I don't know if I'll be able to find him. He may not want to be found. He's even better at hiding from those looking for him than Morrigan is. Though he never found her, he did find leads. We never had a clue where he was the entire time he was gone. The fade is far more vast than Ferelden, and the geography doesn't follow the same rules. If he wants, he can create a completely private world where no one could follow. His own personal dreamworld. Even if I find him, I may not be able to reach him. But I will try."


	19. Chapter 18: Lost in the Fade

The Warden continued his shuffle across the fade. Despite appearances, he was not mindless. More precisely, he was not devoid of emotion. It was just that the only emotions he had felt recently were confusion, pain, anger, and loss. When he could bring his mind into focus long enough to form coherent thoughts, he admitted that even those were better than the stupor he felt in between those brief bursts of life. It was this stupor which misled most observers to believe him just another mindless (though dangerous) feature of the fade.

The stupor that was only broken by violence. He had lost count of the demons he'd killed. It had probably been dozens. But it could have been hundreds. He cared not for the count. Only for the clarity of battle, despite the pain that came with the coherent memories.

He'd noticed the other spirit following him, of course, but he paid him no mind. He was not a demon. He was more like the others that had tried to stop him. That had caused him concern, in a distant sort of way, but the attacks from the non-demons had stopped, and on some level there was a glimmer of understanding that his strange companion might have had something to do with that.

Recently, though, there had been something else. It was not a demon. There were no demons unknown to him. It did not feel like one of the spirits native to the fade. It felt like something else. Something out of place. Like him. It was not visible. It did not show itself. But he could feel it. Probing.

When in stupor, he was only vaguely aware of it, but in his brief bursts of violence-induced cognizance, he had vague recollection of the fact that he had had friends, once, somewhere else. In a place other than here, wherever here was. Then the moment would pass, and it would become just another vague sensation, too indistinct even to be called a feeling.

As time went on, he began to suspect that this _presence_ was looking for something. It didn't concern him. Everyone was looking for something. He was looking for demons to fight. The irony of a man lost to himself, wandering the fade looking for more demons to fight was lost on him. It never dawned on him that the presence might be looking for him. Other than the strange companion, and the spirits he had been forced to kill, he wasn't really aware of the actions of anything other than himself.

But the presence _was_ looking for him. It canvassed the fade, looking for any sign of the strange warrior that was killing the demons. It was hard to find any sign, for even though the Warden was able to go anywhere his meandering took him, his path and location were not constant. The ground he walked on shifted and moved with him, as they were immaterial things created by his tortured psyche. As such, they were everywhere, and also nowhere. It took a very long time for the other presence to notice the pattern. It took much longer to decipher it. Longer still to follow it.

Eventually, though, the presence caught the trail, and the Warden gradually became aware of it following in his wake, observing the aftermath of his passage. He didn't understand why, but that bothered him, and he adjusted his dream. Now, rather than a charred landscape, he left only a void behind him. If anything, it was more obvious that he had been there, but where there is only nothingness there can be no trace. The presence dropped out of notice, for a while.

But it always came back.

Despite everything he tried, it always seemed to find him again. He feared it. He did not want it to catch him. He knew that, even when there were no demons for him to kill. Even in the stupor, a feeling could break through if it was primal enough. And fear is very primal. He picked up his pace, even at the expense of missing some of the demons. It was no matter. There were always more demons. Over the course of time, his quest changed from chasing those moments of violent purity to simply evading the presence. This made him angry, but he could do nothing about it. He did not want to meet whatever it was that was chasing him. So he ran, and he hid. It was his dream, and though the presence was skillful, it stayed one step behind, never catching him. It was a hollow triumph. He could keep it at bay forever if he wished, but he remained lost in the fog of his own warped dream.

Wynne could not reach him. She had found him, of that much she was sure. It hurt her very soul to see Aedan lost in his own pain like this. Each day, she woke, full of optimism that this might be the day she finally broke through to him. Each day, she entered the fade. Each day, she went to bed, the disappointment clinging to her being like the smell of earth on a dead man. No matter what she told herself, she knew it was not making any difference. If anything, her attempted intervention had only driven him further into himself. But she had to try.

The amount of lyrium required to keep this up was staggering, but neither Alistair nor First Enchanter Irving had said anything when her requests for resupply had continued, first for days, then weeks, and now months. She didn't know it, but all fade research at the Circle had been curtailed to facilitate her quest. There just wasn't enough lyrium to go around. No one cared. They all owed Aedan too much, and he'd thrown himself behind slimmer odds to save them when their positions had been reversed. But still, it all amounted to nothing.

She would never give up, not even if all the lyrium in the world were used up, but a part of her was beginning to accept against her will that she may never bring him out of it. He may spend the rest of his life lost in the fade, because he didn't want to be found. Alistair had even gone so far to suggest that they send out search parties for Morrigan, he was so desperate to save his friend. They hadn't done it. If even Aedan hadn't been able to find her, agents of the throne certainly weren't going to be able to either. They couldn't think of anything else that they could do, but they were unwilling to give up. They'd seen what it had done to Aedan to have to give up. He'd only done it because they had needed him. So they swore they wouldn't, no matter how long it took, and no matter what it required of them.

So they continued, day after day, accomplishing nothing.


	20. Chapter 19: The Witch Learns His Fate

_Life is difficult_, Morrigan thought to herself for what must have been the hundredth time since she had gotten up that morning. There was just so much that had to be done. The infant needed fed, constantly. She didn't want to sleep unless her mother was wide awake. As soon as Morrigan tried to get some sleep herself, the baby woke up, and demanded both food and attention. Morrigan almost regretted leaving the quiet village where she had given birth to their daughter. The people had been good to her there, and had not asked very many questions. They had seen that she was in need, and left it at that. Yes, she did regret leaving. But she did not want to return.

She had sworn that she was going to raise the child apart from society, and that's what she was going to do. Despite what she had turned out to be at her core, Morrigan felt that her respect for Flemeth had grown over the last few months. She had grown up despising the horrid woman, but being a mother was a lot harder than she had anticipated. Surely, though, if Flemeth could do it, so could she.

As if that weren't enough, some local chapter of the Chantry had caught on to the fact that there was an apostate in the area. Morrigan doubted that anyone in the village had turned her in, but she'd been dodging the Chantry her entire life, and knew that no one had to inform on you. They just seemed to know. She'd spent the past few weeks having to dodge their inept search parties. It wasn't hard, but it was another burden stacked on top of her already complex situation.

Now that the child was born, it was both easier and harder to move. It was easier, because she was physically mobile again, as well as able to shift, but also harder, because she had to worry about someone else, someone who was weak and completely incapable of doing anything to help her with any of what had to be done. _Children are parasites_, Morrigan frequently caught herself thinking. She did mean it, but she not resent her child. The child was the second person Morrigan had ever loved in her life. The child was the only thing she had of _his_. Never mind the fact that the child carried the soul of an Old God now. There had been many other reasons they had conceived the child, not least of all the fact that if they hadn't Aedan probably would have died, but she had only recently begun to understand that if things had been somehow different, if she hadn't had to conceive the child to save his life, she would not change it. She found it hard to believe, but she was happy that they had created a child together.

_I never expected to have a matronly bone in my body_, she thought as the baby nursed. She couldn't help it. The baby was a part of her, of him. Of them. She would never see him again, but she would see him every day. The child was only a few months old, but she had seen in the first minutes of the child's life that she had her father's ears, and nose. She had her mother's eyes, of course, and hair. She still had not come up with a name. It would have to be done soon, but Morrigan was at a loss. She had never known any women that she would like to name her child after. If it had been a son, she would have named him after Aedan. But it wasn't, and the only other women she had really known had been Flemeth, Wynne, and Leliana. She was not going to name her only daughter after one of them, of that she was certain.

If she didn't think of another name soon, she was going to name her Sarah, after the woman in the village who owned the inn with her husband. Sarah the innkeeper had shown her only kindness, and it was a good name. She had talked much with Sarah over the course of her several weeks there after the delivery while she regained her strength. Morrigan was uncomfortable with how much she had shared. As a rule, she disliked people, and liked trusting them even less. But she'd had no choice, and to be honest, she had been lonely. It was good to talk to someone else, after travelling for so long. It didn't help that the year she had spent with Aedan had gotten her used to being around people. It had been harder than she'd expected to go back to living in isolation.

Sarah told Morrigan that she thought that Aedan would eventually find her. She hadn't listened when she tried to tell her that she knew he'd already given up, and out of frustration had revealed how. Sarah had not been disgusted, or even offended. She'd suspected from the very beginning that Morrigan was an apostate, and it didn't bother her in the least. "After all," she'd said, "all the pig men in the world are not apostates, and I certainly would not give any of them a place to stay or stay up late talking with them. People are individuals, not labels. One being bad has nothing to do with the other." Still, even after Morrigan had revealed that she knew through magic that Aedan was no longer pursuing her, Sarah had told her that that didn't mean he had given up. "I have a feeling that he doesn't go a single day without thinking of you. He may have turned back because he had responsibilities, but I guarantee he will come back for you as soon as he can, even if it takes him years. There's no question that he will never give up on you. The question is whether or not you'll let him find you."

Morrigan wondered about that, and often. It was an idle fantasy, of course. Still, she had begun to dream of him. Him looking for her. Her letting him find her. Him keeping all his promises, and them being happy. Occasionally, against her better judgment, she would look in on him. Every time she did, what she saw was worse. She had heard about the Afterblight, and knew that it was the only reason he'd stopped pursuing her. The world had needed him, she expected. Parts of her wanted to be mad at him for turning back, wanted to believe that it meant he hadn't meant any of it at all when he had tried to tell her how he felt about her. But she knew it wasn't true. She could feel it, even here, what it had cost him to turn back without finding her. Every time he marched into battle, she knew, and it kept her up at night. If she thought she'd known fear and uncertainty before, she had been wrong. She hadn't known anything of the sort. Fear and uncertainty were being able to feel every arrow and sword that threatened to snuff out his life, and being forced to remain a thousand miles away, unable to even see with her own eyes whether he lived or died, let alone do anything about it.

Time passed. She didn't come up with a different name, so the child was named Sarah.

When the second war was over, she had breathed a sigh of relief, even if it meant that she might have to make some hard decisions about whether to stay put or start running again. Hard choices or not, he had survived the second war. She had no doubts about that. As time went by, she could feel more than just the turbulence of battle. At night, when Sarah was asleep, and she lay awake unable to sleep, she could sense his heart beating a thousand miles away. It was very faint, but it was not her imagination. She knew it wasn't the ring. He'd worn it for a year before she left, and though she could divine his location through it at will, it had never shown itself to have any power like this. What it meant, she did not know.

As the weeks went by, Morrigan waited nervously to see whether or not Aedan came after her. She did not know which she wanted him to do. Both, was probably the answer. Her dreams were getting worse. She could feel his spirit becoming more erratic. He wasn't doing well, she was sure of that. Each night, she wandered the fade while she dreamed. Most common folk did not know it, but when in a dream, one's consciousness was actually in the fade. Mages could actually navigate it without getting lost, but Morrigan had little experience with that. She did possess the ability, but most of the time, her visits to the fade were just like anyone else's: uncontrolled and brief, lasting only until dawn. Or until the baby woke her up with hungry crying. What she did know was that dreams were often significant, and never random. In her dreams, Aedan seemed to be getting more and more desperate. Coupled with what she felt, she knew something was going to happen, but she didn't know what. It might be a revelation, a decision, or something else entirely. But she was being given a glimpse into his state of being, and the picture she was shown was not a pretty one. He seemed confused, angry, and in pain. Then again, so did she. Perhaps she was only projecting.

One night, the pattern changed. She'd been dreaming of him, as usual. He'd been standing on a hill, watching her from above. Suddenly, the landscape changed. Instead of the rugged landscape of Ferelden, they were standing in a dreamlike landscape, on the edge of an abyss so deep that at the bottom there was only blackness. He walked to the edge of the cliff and stood there with his back to her, until she'd tried to touch him. He'd turned around so suddenly that she froze, startled. He'd looked at her then with such sadness in his eyes that she hadn't known what to say, even in a dream. Then the landscape changed again. The bottom dropped out from under him, and all she could see was him disappearing into the darkness.

Morrigan woke up screaming. She sat up, covered in sweat, and threw the covers off her. Mercifully, Sarah hadn't woken up. Morrigan sat there in the darkness for several minutes, trying to calm her breathing. She'd _felt _it. Something had happened, but she didn't know what. She tried to reach out, to find out, but she couldn't, not until she was calm. She forced herself to breathe.

When she had herself back under control, she closed her eyes and carefully began to probe with her mystical senses. She could tell immediately that something was wrong, but it took her a minute to figure out what. She could still feel the pulse of his heartbeat, so she knew he was alive, but she couldn't feel _him._ She hadn't realized it, but his presence had always been there. Now there was nothing, and she felt naked all over again, just as she had that first night when she realized there was no one to help her, and that he was truly gone. She tried again, this time ignoring the secondary link that she'd discovered, and tried only the ring. She sensed a room, with a window. A tower. _Denerim_. So he was still in Ferelden. W_hy can't I feel him then?_

She tried for hours to sense his presence, but she found nothing. She finally fell asleep an hour before dawn, and when she did, she found her answer. The connection was back, but only while she dreamed. That meant that Aedan was lost in the fade. Morrigan had heard cautionary tales of this. It only happened when someone was in so much pain that they simply let go, preferring to drift, rather than go back to face the world when they woke. Aedan was no mage, even if he had demonstrated some ability to navigate. Even skilled mages rarely found their way back when that happened.

When dawn finally came, she fed the baby, and collapsed again, exhausted, but was unable to sleep. It was too much for her. She'd only been hanging on by hoping that Aedan's life was turning out alright without her in it. Instead, losing her had caused him so much anguish that he'd literally let go, and was now lost in the fade, probably never to return. Morrigan had never known loss so profound. It made her sick, and her muscles felt tense, as if her body wanted to run away, or fight. She tried to be strong, but she just couldn't. She burst into tears, and rocked herself until long after she'd run out of tears.


	21. Chapter 20: Quagroth of the Fade

Quagroth had been observing his subject for the fade equivalent of several days. He was fairly certain that it knew he was watching him, but he might have been wrong. If he did, he certainly didn't make any acknowledgement. Just in case, Quagroth didn't get close. Those that had had ended up destroyed. He shuddered. Little was known about this interloper. He had shown up in the fade several months before, and quickly begun to burn a path of destruction, leaving a wake of terror behind him as wide as could be remembered.

Curiously, the interloper was only attacking demons. Well, Quagroth reminded himself, that wasn't _entirely _true. There had been a handful of incidents involving more benevolent spirits. The official stance was that the interloper was a liability, and a danger to the balance of power in the fade. And he probably was. But Quagroth knew that the only reason the Council was willing to lend lip service to the accusations of the demons was because a few of their own had been killed. Personally, Quagroth suspected that those that had died died only because they got in the interloper's way. That did not excuse the interloper, but it did mean that he was merely unwilling to be swayed or misdirected in his path, rather than overtly and indiscriminately hostile to any being he met.

Quagroth was a fairly young spirit to already be so disillusioned with the Council. However, after the things he had seen, he could draw no other conclusions. The Council was a political entity, and thus behaved as one. It was very true that the random destruction of demons would upset the balance of power. But there were none on the spirit Council that would have objected to the balance being tipped in that direction. As far as that went, Quagroth agreed. Any demons slayer was welcome as far as he was concerned. It wasn't just the physical world that they tormented.

Unfortunately, when a favorite of one of the councilmembers was sent to "question" the interloper , he ended up dead. The hype said that he was "mercilessly slaughtered" and "completely innocent", but Quagroth knew full well that the particular spirit was both arrogant and hot tempered. Probably, the interloper had simply ignored him, and he had become offended and done something stupid, like get in the interloper's way. Questions about the intentions of the interloper aside, there was no debating that he was perfectly willing to kill a spirit if it crossed him and didn't move.

There had been backlash over that, and the Council had voted to send warriors to expel the interloper. Said warriors never returned. Quagroth had seen the aftermath of the battle with his own eyes. The ground was scorched black, and nothing but ash remained. It was unclear how such damage had been done. The interloper appeared human, and no one had smelled magic about him, so it was unlikely he was a mage. Which posed an entirely different, but even more interesting question: how was he in the fade at all? None but mages were able to navigate in the fade. All humans could get there in their dreams, but they were merely passengers along on a trip that ended at dawn. They could not wander freely, nor damage a creature of the fade, as the interloper did.

The Council had the power to expel any interloper remotely, but such a process could wreak havoc on the mortal plane at the location of the interloper's body. As the death toll climbed (again, Quagroth was sure, because of the arrogance of the council, not the animosity of the interloper), this began to seem like less and less of a problem. As preparations were made, Quagroth had protested. How could they cause such destruction without making any effort to speak peacefully with the interloper? The Council had replied that they had, and the interloper responded with violence. Quagroth had angrily blurted out that they had not done any such thing. Quagroth had overstepped his place. They asked him if he had any theories as to who this interloper might be, or why he was here, other than to kill. Quagroth had no theories. But he was willing to risk his life to find out.

The Council found him inconvenient anyway, so they allowed him to go. Good riddance, they had figured. Let the young, naïve spirit get himself killed. They continued preparations for the ritual, but promised that they would not execute it if he could find reason why they shouldn't.

And now, he was observing the interloper. So far, he had simply walked. It did not look like he had a destination. So far, they had been traversing a great wide open plane, but very soon, they would reach a large gap between continents. Quagroth wanted to see what happened when he got there. Would he turn around? Would he stop? Leave? He would have the answer soon. All he had to do was wait. It would not be long now.

Aedan was lost. He didn't know where he was. Or why. Or how, or when, for that matter. The last thing he remembered clearly was drifting off to sleep clutching the ring, in agony after retiring to his self-imposed isolation in the highest tower of Denerim castle. That much he remembered clearly. The pain. The hopelessness. He didn't care what happened to him. Not even if he died. He had given up on her, and so no longer cared. He'd already fulfilled his duty. Nothing anchored him, so he suspected that when he went to the fade in his dreams, he somehow had let go and drifted off, unable to find his way back. Something told him that had happened a long time ago. Time worked very differently here, but it felt like it had been a long time.

So he wandered, adrift. Other than the clearness of the pain, there was no past, no future. There was not even a now. It didn't bother him. What did bother him was the demons. He'd come across one, and it tried to pretend it could be her. But it wasn't her, and it had made him feel dirty inside being around it. So he killed it. He remembered how to do that, too. He was good at it. He supposed that he must have been a warrior before. He didn't remember for sure. But when he killed the demon, he felt good.

So he continued to wander, in search of demons to kill. When he fought them, for a moment there was clarity. The clarity hurt, but hurting meant feeling. The feeling meant hurting too. But it was real. At least, it felt real. He wasn't sure what that meant. But it was better than being adrift. He thought so, anyway.

There had been other things. Things that weren't demons. He'd ignored them, or tried to. But they'd gotten in his way, and wouldn't move. They wouldn't let him go around, either. They'd stayed right in his path, and he didn't know what they wanted. But they were stopping him from killing demons, and he couldn't have that. Apparently, he could kill things other than demons, too. It was much easier. But it made him feel bad, and not in the clarity-inducing way that made him feel good, but in the soulcrushingly guilty way. He didn't like killing these other things. Every time he met one, he tried to avoid it. Lately, more and more had been getting in his way, and fewer and fewer were letting him leave them be. Once, there had even been a large group that had come and tried to hurt him. He was sorry that he had to kill them, but if he hadn't he would be dead, and he couldn't kill the demons if he was dead.

There was another, as well. He was different from the rest. He was the same as the ones who kept getting in his way, but he behaved differently. He was staying far away, and only watching him. It didn't concern him. He wasn't in his way. He suspected that he wouldn't get in his way, not like the others. If he wanted something from him, he wouldn't force him to fight.

But he could think on that later. There was a demon near, he could feel it.

Quagroth watched from afar. He knew he did not have forever, so he decided to take a risk. There was a demon approaching, and Quagroth wanted to see the fight from up close. He had run the last time there had been a fight, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. This time, he wanted to see why the land was left scorched wherever the interloper met a demon.

The fight began simply enough. The rage demon did not know what it faced, and stupidly chose to fight. The interloper drew his daggers, and it began. When the fire from the rage demon touched the interloper, however, Quagroth learned why the land was always left scorched.

The fire burned Aedan, and he didn't like that. He knew what would make it better. He closed his eyes, and flames erupted from his body. But they did not touch him. They _were_ him. He was a man, but on fire. A living flame. The demon could no longer touch him, and he strangled it with his bare (though now flaming) hands. In the instant of clarity that followed, Aedan saw flashes and glimpses of her. Her eyes, her face. Her hair, always with one strand out of place over her left eye. Aedan fell to his knees, oblivious to the corpse of the rage demon that had begun to spread out in a pool of filth. And he wept.

Quagroth approached cautiously. When he got within a stone's throw, and nothing happened he risked more, and came within a sword's reach. From there, he could feel the interloper's aura. It radiated pain, suffering, and confusion, as well as something else that he could not place. Quagroth struggled to understand what it was that had caused the interloper to become trapped, for he could clearly see that he was in no condition to have chosen to remain here deliberately. Slowly, it dawned on the spirit that it was not rage that drove the interloper.

It was anguish.


	22. Chapter 21: Chantry Camp

"Surrender, Witch!" The Templar commander shouted, "Do it now, and we'll spare the child."

Morrigan gritted her teeth. Of all the things the Templar commander could have said, bringing up her infant daughter was the wrong one. She was backed into a corner, and one thing you don't want to do is back a powerful mage into a corner and make her angry. She quickly gathered her anger and fear, building it into a field of magical energy intense enough to melt flesh right off the bone. She risked a quick glance around the tree she was hiding behind. The commander had a squad of archers right next to him, so she knew she'd need to be quick to make it work. With a final mental push, she dumped the energy into her staff, amplifying and tuning it, stepped out from behind the tree, and let loose the full wrath of her powers.

The bolt reached the group of men in an instant, vaporizing all but two. Morrigan let out a cry of anger. She'd taken out most of the archers, but the commander had survived. She ducked quickly back behind her tree as the remaining archer fired at her. A moment later there was a heavy thunk as an arrow impacted on the tree where her neck had been a moment earlier.

She looked around at her position, and decided it was not good. She was in a small valley about half a mile long, with the Templars between her and the valley entrance. The hills on either side were too steep for her to climb, but free of any vegetation at all, so it wouldn't be long before there were archers lining the entire side of the valley waiting to rain death on her and her child. She'd been driven into a trap and she knew it, which made her all the more angry. Her daughter was safe for the moment, about a hundred yards further into the valley, hiding inside a hollow tree. It was a good hiding place, but the Templars would find the child easily. With her parentage, there was no way that she wouldn't be broadcasting a very strong magical aura, and she was far too young to have learned how to dampen it.

Flying out was not an option either. Six months before, she'd been light enough to carry, but she had gotten too big for that. It limited their mobility badly, and was why the Templars had been able to catch up with them in the first place. In a flash of annoyance, Morrigan realized that her mother, Flemeth, had done a better job holding the Chantry at bay than she was doing for her own daughter. She pushed the thought out of her head.

_Very well, if running is not an option, there's always the direct approach…_

Drawing up her courage, Morrigan channeled more energy through her staff, crafting a coherent shield to protect her from the arrows that she was about to expose herself to. She stepped from behind the tree, undampened her magical field (no need to be stealthy when the enemy has you cornered already), and unleashed an elemental hell on the company of Templars that had hoped to capture the Swamp Witch and her daughter.

She'd caught the Templars by surprise. They hadn't expected her to rush them, which showed they were fairly green troops. She made quick work of them. She blasted apart the infantry formations first with fireballs, and took great pleasure in the agonized screams of those that survived the initial blasts. They stopped screaming once she hit them with chain lightning. The bolts arced through the survivors, electrocuting any still alive. Despite the drizzle, she could smell the burnt flesh from where she stood. She bared her teeth in primal satisfaction, and broke into a run. She didn't want any of them to escape.

The infantry were all dead or dying, leaving only the commander, who was too stunned by the loss of two thirds of his forces to arrange any effective counterattack. Most of the remaining archers fled. A few of the more disciplined troops remained, waiting for the order to fire. The panicked commander had forgotten to give it.

Morrigan was sprinting now, with less than 50 yards to the line of archers. Those that remained realized their commander wasn't going to issue the order, and those among them with initiative opened fire. It made no difference. The shield held against the weak barrage of arrows that belatedly answered her assault. Morrigan leapt through the air, transforming into the form of a giant green spider. As a spider, she could clear the remaining distance in one leap, and this time landed right on top of one of the archers. She plunged her venomous fangs into his neck, shredding his flesh and opening his veins. He would have screamed, but his trachea had been ripped out. The venom insured that he would not live long enough to bleed to death.

Morrigan removed her fangs and hissed at the other archers. This display proved too much for all but two of them, and they took off after the rest of their companions. The remaining two drew clumsy swords and advanced. The first swung at one of her legs. She easily moved it out of the way, and used one of her others to knock the man on his back. She jumped backwards and sprayed a web over both men, immobilizing them. The terrified pair began to scream as she slowly crawled over to them, as if they thought she was going to eat them.

Morrigan changed back into human form, and leaned over the two shaking men. "You should have taken the hint when I killed the last company of Templars sent after my child and I. Oh, well." Morrigan walked up and put her hand on the forehead of the first. She channeled her rage into the man, got up, and walked away. A few seconds later, he exploded with enough force to have killed the entire squad, had there still been one. It was more than enough to kill his partner, who'd chosen to stand and die with him.

Morrigan walked slowly down the valley to retrieve her daughter. She hadn't gotten them all, but she'd made her point. Unfortunately it would make no difference. They would keep coming, and there were more of them each time. Sooner or later, they were going to catch her in enough numbers that she wouldn't simply be able to blast her way out. She'd been on the run for over two and a half years, and it was taking its toll. More than ever, she questioned her decision to refuse Aedan's plea to come with her when she'd left. She had had her reasons then, and she still did, but she could use his help right now, and she knew it.

Aedan surveyed the Templar camp through his spyglass. Four companies had gone out on patrol earlier in the morning, but only three came back by sundown. Less than a dozen men from the fourth returned. It looked to him like they'd found her. He put his spyglass away, and thoughtfully ran his hand through the hair of his Mabari. "Tomorrow, boy, we're going to find her. Stay here, I'm going to go infiltrate their camp and find out where that company ran into trouble." His dog whined at him. He didn't like being separated from his master, but he would do as he was told.

Aedan slipped quietly through the trees, and down the gentle slope into the Templar camp. He had no trouble staying out of sight, especially now that night had fallen. Most of the soldiers were still up, but Aedan didn't worry. His motions were absolutely silent, and his mastery of the shadows was complete. Not a soul noticed him, and within minutes he reached the battalion commander's tent. He quietly pressed his ear up to the side of the tent. There were voices inside, but he could not make them out. He made his way around to the entrance of the tent, to better hear the report being given within.

He heard distinct voices now. "..only half a dozen of us made it out, sir. We lured her into the trap, but she blasted her way right out the mouth of the valley, taking my entire command with her."

"But not, I notice, you." Aedan couldn't actually see inside the tent, but he suspected the first speaker was very uncomfortable now.

"Well no, sir, I had to escape in order to report…"

"Report what, Captain, the position of the Witch?"

"Yes, sir!"

"If I recall, she was forced into the trap, correct?"

"Yes, sir! It worked perfectly."

"Then her location would not have been a mystery if you'd failed to return, now would it?"

"Sir..? I don't understand." Aedan couldn't help but chuckle. Morrigan must have loved melting this man's command. She hated stupid military men more than anything.

"No, of course you don't," the battalion commander sighed, "That's the problem. Get out of my tent. I'll deal with your cowardice in the morning. Right now I have to work on a plan that, thanks to you, can only utilize three companies."

Aedan ducked back away from the tent flap as the white-faced former company commander hurried out of the tent. Aedan made a snap decision and decided to follow him back to his tent. He needed to hear it from the man himself, if it was true that they'd found Morrigan.

The commander obviously had a lot on his mind, and was not worrying about being followed in his own camp. Just the same, Aedan made sure his movements were absolutely silent, and he stayed in the shadows. It was a large camp, and it took several minutes to reach his tent. There was no one around to greet the commander. Aedan smiled from the shadows, and waited. The commander went inside his tent, lit a lamp, and began making preparations for sleep. Aedan considered waiting for the man to fall asleep, so that he could do some poking around in his things, but he didn't want his dog to be discovered by a patrol. He waited only long enough for the commander to put out his lamp before slinking into the tent.

He waited just inside the flap for a minute or two, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The commander's breathing was slowing as he edged closer to sleep. Aedan took a cursory look around. There was a map on a field desk, and a leather folder lay open next to it. The pages were filled with neat, ordered letters, probably supply reports. Aedan quietly pocketed the folder and rolled up the map. He'd look at those later, after he'd made good his exfiltration.

He turned his attention to man on the cot. He was snoring lightly now, completely asleep. _How easy it would be to just cut his throat and leave._ Aedan silently drew a dagger, and moved over to the sleeping man. He put the dagger against the man's throat, his other hand over his mouth and nose, and waited for him to wake up. Stupid as he may have been, he was a soldier, and woke up the instant his air supply was cut off. To his credit, he began reaching for his right ankle before surprise even registered on his face, but Aedan pressed the dagger into his skin hard enough to draw blood. The commander stopped reaching for his dagger.

Aedan spoke, very quietly: "I'm going to remove my hand, and you're going to tell me everything I want to know. You will not scream. You will not try to escape. If you do, I'll show you how to stab a man so that it takes him hours to die. Do you understand? Don't nod, I'm not moving this dagger." The man's eyes were showing fear now, and Aedan's respect for him was dwindling rapidly. He didn't' like cowards any better than Morrigan did.

Aedan removed his hand from his captive's mouth, but left the dagger at his throat. "Who is it your battalion is tracking?" Aedan saw the man calculating his options. As if reaching a decision, he stopped struggling and began talking.

"We're after an apostate, a blood mage. And her child, an abomination." Aedan's heart skipped a beat.

"Does this apostate have a name?" he snarled.

The captive cringed. "Morrigan. Her name is Morrigan." Aedan removed the dagger and sat back, thinking. Just to make sure his captive wouldn't do anything foolish, he began tapping the dagger on his leg absentmindedly.

"What do you know of this Morrigan?"

"I don't understand."

"Do I have to put the dagger back? What do you know about her. Why is your battalion after her. There was no formal order from the Chantry." His captive narrowed his eyes.

"How could you know that?"

_Because it was the first thing I checked when I went looking for her again_. "Don't worry about that. Where are you getting your intel, and why are you acting outside of the official authority of the Chantry?"

The man sat up. Aedan had obviously struck a chord. "It is our responsibility to protect mankind from the likes of that bitch and her blood child. The fact that the Chantry is too weak to act only proves the necessity of our actions!" He was nearly frothing now.

Aedan clenched his teeth and tried to bury his anger. He only partially succeeded. The commander's momentary discovery of a spine was cut short, as he shrank in fear of the obvious rage he'd conjured in his captor. Frantically, he began trying to dig his way out of the mess. Instead, he only buried himself deeper. "What do you care, anyway? We're doing you a favor, you know. Her kind shouldn't be allowed to threaten the rest of us. Better to kill her and her spawn here and now."

Aedan lost his temper, then, and only just barely kept from shouting at the man. He held up his left hand, which was adorned with only a single gold ring. "Do you see this? She gave it to me. Do you know what that means?" The man gulped, realizing he'd made a big mistake. "You might say that I care when I'm told your mission is to eradicate her and her spawn. That 'spawn' of hers is my daughter." Aedan was fuming now, and had to work hard to slow his breathing. The commander didn't even bother to try to say anything, and kept quiet. It was probably the only intelligent decision he'd made all night.

Aedan unrolled the map he'd taken from the desk. "Show me where you had her trapped earlier today."

There was no flash of defiance. The commander showed him.

"Can I trust that you didn't just point to a random location to throw me off?"

The commander nodded vigorously.

"Very well. I don't think you can tell me anything else that I don't already know." Understanding dawned in the man's eyes, and Aedan sneered as liquid began dripping from the cot onto the floor. It wasn't blood.

"You can't kill me!"

"Why not?"

"Because! You're, you're…" He struggled for the words, to come up with a reason why Aedan couldn't kill him.

"What, in league with an apostate? Which she absolutely is, by the way, though not a blood mage. Annoyed that your current life's goal is to kill my …" Aedan struggled for a word. He wanted to say wife, but it wasn't true, not really. "Child? Do you even know who I am?"

"No. No one told me about the father. I just assumed it was some kind of demon pact."

Aedan did some quick calculations. Just because the company commander didn't know about him didn't mean the battalion commander didn't. This man was stupid, and if he were the battalion commander, he wouldn't have told him either. He couldn't assume they didn't know who he was.

"What is your name?"

"Why do you want my name? How can you kill me after you know my name?"

"The real question is how could I kill you _without_ knowing your name?" The man shuddered. Obviously, killing did not come to him as easily as it did to Aedan. Deep down, though, Aedan thought he saw a glimmer of respect.

"John."

"Well, John, I would say that this is nothing personal, but it's actually very personal. I'm going to give you a very simple choice. Do you want to die like a coward, or like a soldier?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to walk out of this tent, count to twenty, and come back in. Whether you're asleep in your bed when I come back, or sitting at your desk with your sword next to you is up to you. Either way, you'll be dead before my count reaches twenty-five." Aedan got up and exited the tent without looking back. If he had, he'd have seen a small smile on the lips of the man he was about to kill.

Escaping the camp undetected was easy. Aedan circled the spot he'd left his dog carefully, to make sure he hadn't been discovered and used as bait. Seeing no one, he whistled softly, and the mabari sprinted towards him happily. "Let's go, boy. They'll discover the mess I made at dawn, so we've got to beat them to her." Dog barked happily, but quietly, in agreement.

"Sir, you need to see this right away!" The battalion commander groaned. His adjutant wanted something, apparently. Knowing that there was no point in trying to delay the inevitable, he sat up, stretched, and walked to the tent flap.

"What is it?"

"He's dead, sir!"

"What?! Who? How?" He was wide awake, now. He motioned for the adjutant to come in, both for privacy and so that he could start getting dressed. It was an early start for sure, now.

"The company commander. The witch must have followed him back to camp, and killed him in the night!"

"John is dead?"

"Yes, sir, you need to see his body."

"Did the sentries report anything amiss last night?"

"No, nothing."

"I'll be there in a moment. Keep everyone away, we don't need to start a panic. I need to get my gear on."

"Yes sir." The adjutant saluted and left to carry out his orders.

The battalion commander scratched the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. Never mind that none of the sentries had seen anything. If John was dead, why wasn't he dead too? For that matter, why weren't they all dead? It didn't make any sense. Bunched up in a camp like this, she could have taken out the entire battalion if she'd been willing to risk getting close enough.

He shook his head, and quickly pulled his pants, shirt, and boots on. He buckled on his sword belt, threw his armor over his shoulders, and headed to see the scene. He buckled the armor in place as he walked. He did his best to act normally. His adjutant was not a recruit, so he should have kept it quiet. He didn't want to spook the rest of the camp, so he returned salutes, barked orders, and projected command presence. Inside, he was afraid of what he was about to find. When he reached the scene of the crime, the adjutant met him at the entrance.

"He was cut to pieces sir. He looks like he was able to defend himself, but it didn't do any good." The commander grunted, and pushed the flap back. He almost retched when he saw the scene within. John hadn't just been killed. He'd been _slaughtered_. At first glance, it looked like he'd been hacked to pieces. But the commander hadn't gotten where he had by being satisfied with a first glance answer. He looked closer. What he found confused him even more.

The cuts were extremely violent, yes, but there was very little blood. Only high velocity spatter on the walls. The body was actually not mutilated at all. Just dead, and quickly, by the looks of it. Before there had been time for the blood to get everywhere.

His face scrunched up in thought. None of it made any sense at all.

"This wasn't Morrigan," he decided aloud.

"Sir?" His adjutant poked his head in.

"Look at it. It wasn't her. This isn't her style, not in general, and not in particular. She doesn't cut people up. She melts them. And look at the wounds. John died almost instantly. Morrigan would have wanted him to suffer, at least a little bit."

_Precise cuts, quick death. What does it mean? _His eyes got very wide as the pieces slid together.

"_Cousland_," he whispered.

"Sir, did you say 'Cousland'? I don't understand, what do the lords of Highever have to do with this?"

_Everything_, _but you don't need to know anything about that_.

"What? I didn't say Cousland."

"Yes you did, sir, I heard it quite plainly."

The commander looked very pointedly at his adjutant. "You heard wrong. I said no such thing."

He nodded slowly in understanding. "Yes sir, it was the wind, distorts the words. My misunderstanding."

"I'll be in my tent. I have to think about this. Get the remaining officers in my tent within the hour. We have plans to make."

With that, he stalked off, too deep in thought to return the salutes and bark orders at his men as he passed. The pieces fit, but it still made no sense. Aedan Cousland was the only man he knew who could make cuts that precise, that quick. The merciful death was his style. But why had John had the time to defend himself at all? He had seen firsthand how quickly Aedan could fell an opponent. John was good with a blade, but not _that_ good. He must have been awake and armed at the time. Why would Cousland even bother? Why not just wait for him to fall asleep? And again, if John was dead, why weren't they all dead, at least the officers? He shook his head. Each answer brought only more questions. Never mind the fact that the last he'd heard, the witch had walked out on the Warden years ago, and they hadn't spoken since. How and why had he showed up here, now? It didn't matter. If Cousland was back in the picture, that made everything far more urgent. His orders were very specific. If the Warden was allowed to reach Morrigan and join forces with her, they'd have no chance of killing the witch, or her child.

That would not do at all.


	23. Chapter 22: A Welcome Rescue

He took off towards the location depicted on the stolen map. The the decision to not simply kill every officer in the camp nagged at him, but there was no time for regret now. He had to find her, and fast. It wouldn't take them long to reorganize after the defeat Morrigan had dealt them the previous day, and they would be out for blood. He wasn't exactly worried about her, as she'd lived her entire life just outside the Chantry's reach, but if she did another of her disappearing acts to escape, he might not find her again. It had taken long enough as it was to get a rough location on her this time.

As he ran through the forest, silent as an elf with his dog bounding noisily beside him, he wished he had more time. Their connection was very strong, and he could literally sense her direction with his eyes closed now, but it took time to concentrate enough to see the link, and even longer to pinpoint a geographic location through it. Time he didn't have. He couldn't activate the ring, because she'd feel it instantly. The admission hurt him, but he didn't know what she'd do if she sensed him coming. He wanted to think she'd wait, but he'd been proven wrong about that before. He had no choice but to track her the hard way, and hope that he could do it better and faster than the men society had put in charge of tracking people like her.

He ran for hours, ignoring the rain when it poured down in sheets from the angry sky. The wind was cold and brutal, his chainmail doing nothing to protect him. It chilled him to the bone. His dog fared better, his thick coat keeping out both the rain and the water, but Mabari were bred for dismounting cavalry, not for distance running. Just before dawn, they had to stop.

The rain had stopped, but only because the temperature had plummeted, changing the rain into snow. Aedan sat in exhausted silence as he watched his dog's breath turn to steam as he panted rapdily. Dog's eyes looked ashamed, as if he knew that his physical limitations were hurting his master. Aedan wanted to scream, to smash his fists into the trees at the delay, but he knew his dog was giving him all he had. It was slower cross country with him along, but he could not even think of abandoning his oldest friend, and he knew it would be worth everything to have his hound with him when it came to a fight with the Chantry. But knowing that he still had the energy to close the remaining distance and wasn't was agony.

Aedan sighed heavily. He opened his pack, and got out a warm blanket for his dog. Dog would not stay overheated for long with that much sweat and water on him in the now-freezing air. Aedan quietly built a small fire behind a fallen tree to shield it from the wind. Anyone following him would see the ashes it would leave for sure, but they needed to stay warm now that they'd stopped or they would freeze to death. Once the fire was going, he pulled out his cookware and remaining bacon and began making breakfast. They would stop for one hour, but no longer than that. Hopefully the meat would be enough to keep his companion going. With nothing left to do but wait for the bacon, he walked over to Dog and knelt down. His breathing had slowed to an only slightly elevated normal, and he picked his head up as Aedan aproached.

"Hey there, boy, we'll have us some hot bacon in a few minutes. You rest now. You're a good dog." He patted the dog for a couple of minutes, and then buried his face in his soft, warm fur. It always made him feel better, and this was no exception. Reluctantly, he got back up and walked back to the fire, where he spread the blanket out next to it and called Dog over. The Mabari climbed slowly to his feet, not really having the energy to move, but seeing that walking the short distance would net him a dry blanket in front of a warm fire, he slowly walked over and then lay back down with a plop.

"Good dog. Rest now, boy, we'll still make it in time."

The minutes passed by in silence, broken only by the popping of the bacon as it cooked. Aedan went over what he was going to do when they caught up to Morrigan. What does a man say, at a time like that? Would Morrigan send him away? If she didn't, would his daughter accept him? She was nearly three, now. He had never seen her, but he knew that she had his chin and Morrigan's golden eyes. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. Eventually, the smell of the bacon burning pulled him out of his trance, and he got back to business. It wasn't fun to run on a stomach full of bacon, but neither he nor his hound had eaten in three days, and they would not be able to continue unless they ate something. Bacon was the only food he had that could be cooked quickly. He ate quickly, giving half of it to Dog. When they were done, he put the pan away (it was magical, and had both cleaned itself and cooled down enough to safely carry in a pack almost instantly) and put out the fire. He debated trying to hide the evidence of it, but decided against it. Dog stood up and shook himself, sending water everywhere, and barked happily. He was ready. Aedan smiled, folded up the blanket (which was not magical, and now very wet), and pulled his pack back on.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. They hadn't lost more than 45 minutes.

"Alright boy, we're almost there. Hopefully she'll still be at her camp, and hopefully nobody beats us there first."

They took off again at a slow jog, still tired but reenergized by the rest and food. Aedan estimated they were within three miles of their goal, and did a quick search for Morrigan's presence. He would not be able to tell where she was, but he'd be able to tell how close, and she woudn't know he'd looked. If she was close, he would feel a warm sensation deep inside him. He shut out the world and let his reflexes handle keeping his legs moving, and slowly probed outward looking for her. After a moment, he felt a warmth spread through him, warmth like a warm dawn after a freezing night. She was close.

"Come on, we're closer than I thought!" He whispered to Dog, and they increased their pace. Half an hour later, he checked again, and this time he knew something was wrong. He could feel the warmth, but it was tinged with the acidic taste of fear. Morrigan was likely in trouble. He risked a more active check. If the Chantry had beat him to her camp, it didn't matter if she saw him coming. He sent his presence out through the veil, searching for the spirit link that connected him to Morrigan. It was not hard to find. His consciousness followed the small string as it pierced the veil and back into the normal world, and ended at Morrigan. He could see her, briefly. She was looking around as if looking for an escape route. Suddenly, her expression changed, as she noticed his presence. He cut the connection quickly. Hopefully she wouldn't know what it was, but he was certain she'd felt something. As far as he knew, she didn't know that he'd learned how to control his fade affinity, and wouldn't have been expecting him to do what he'd just done, but it was impossible to say for sure. In any event, he'd learned what he needed to. Morrigan was still in her camp, less than a mile away, and she had company.

Morrigan awoke from her nightmare with a jolt. They were coming. She shook her daughter awake. "Sarah, wake up, we have to go." The little girl blinked her eyes sleepily, and didn't argue. She'd learned quickly that when her mother said it was time to go, she meant right then. In a fit of weakness, Morrigan kissed the girl on the forehead. "Good girl. Get your things together, they're coming back sooner than I thought and we have to be gone when they get here."

Morrigan quickly packed the camp, and within five minutes they were ready to go. Unfortunately, they were too late. The sound of hooves shattered the cold morning air, and Morrigan's blood ran cold. "Run!" she yelled, and Sarah took off down the valley. Morrigan dropped her pack and changed into a bird, to see how bad the situation was. She did not have to get very high before she saw what was coming: a small squad of scouts armed with bows, let by an officer. She circled back down and landed next to Sarah, who was running as fast as her little legs could carry her. It would not be fast enough to escape cavalry, even in this rough terrain. She changed back, picked up the little girl, and took off running. Her legs were long, but she was not trying to outrun the horses. She was looking for somewhere to hide Sarah like she had before, so that she could battle the horsemen safely. The galloping got closer.

Morrigan found what she found what she was looking for: a large tree with its center rotted out. She stuffed the child into the hole, ignoring her complaints about "spiders and lizards, mommy!", and turned back to head them off as far away from the hiding place as she could. She didn't have to tell Sarah not to make a sound. A moment later, the horsemen burst through the mist.

Morrigan knew that they couldn't escape, and that once again she would have to fight her way out. With Sarah (hopefully) safely stashed, she turned back to head off the men, and hoped no one would sneak up from behind to pull Sarah out of her tree. She couldn't cover every angle at once, and this trick could only work so many times, but her luck had not run out yet. She waited behind a screen of bushes to assess her foes as they assembled. There were more of them than she'd seen from above, nearly an entire platoon, most of them archers, with one officer in plate and another in chain. She felt a subtle energy about the two officers, and cursed. They were both full Templars, which would hamper her badly. Perhaps her luck had run out after all.

The men dismounted 200 yards away and began advancing. They had learned from the example of the company she'd wiped out the day before, and they were not bunched together. Instead, they were advancing in several loose rows. It would be impossible to take them all out with a single fireball or chain lightning strike, and with that many archers supporting two Templars, she might not be able to keep herself safe from the arrows and still have enough energy left to beat them. She sighed. It was looking to be a very bad morning indeed.

The two officers split off, each one taking one of the sides of the formation. The few footmen maintained a shield wall several paces in front of the first row of archers. A single chain lightning spell could drop all of the footmen, but they were too far away from the archers for it to jump to them. Morrigan had spells powerful enough to vaporize everything in the valley, but it took time to conjure that kind of energy, and she couldn't do it while under arrow fire. Bodyguards moved up to cover each of the officers. Each officer was protected by an axeman and a hatchetman. The hatchetmen also carried light crossbows.

Morrigan waited. They were less than a hundred yards away now, but she knew she stood no chance in the open, and chose to remain hidden. At least in the dense foliage, the effect of the archers would be limited. The officer in plate seemed to realize this, and held up an arm. The formation stopped advancing. He nodded to the officer in chain, who removed his helmet and called out:

"Give yourself up, witch, and we will spare your life!" The soldiers remained silent, all eyes on the brushline, hoping she would show herself.

Morrigan did not reply. Even if he were telling the truth, which he probably wasn't, she wasn't going to reveal her position by replying. The man kept trying, affirming her suspicion that he was merely trying to draw her out.

"The sentence for all blood mages is death, witch! We offer your child a chance at redemption, before she too becomes guilty by association."

She was not willing to listen to much more. Against her better judgment, she began to creep forward. If she was careful, she could probably kill him from here and get back under cover before the arrows arrived. She stopped, however. Since everyone was looking at the bushes, no one but her saw the lone cloaked figure emerge from the trees and quickly sneak up behind the axeman guarding the officer wearing chain. Morrigan held her breath. Surely someone would notice? (She was ignoring the question of who he was and why he was there). No one did. Almost anticlimactically, the cloaked figure slit the throat of the grinning axeman. He gently lowered him to the ground, so that the sound of his body hitting the ground would not alert anyone to his presence. The first threat safely neutralize, he looked back up and began creeping towards the hatchetman.

It was not his lucky day. He didn't make a sound, but the bodyguard was alert, and happened to look in his direction. He gave a cry, forcing the mysterious individual's hand. With stealth no longer an option, he lunged forward, covering the distance with astonishing speed. After two feints to test his reach, it only took one blow to the armpit to take the man down. Blood spurted from the wound. The cloaked man had obviously severed an artery, but the wound would take several minutes to be fatal. The bodyguard would still be able to fight during that time. As if this didn't concern him, the man stepped over his opponent, who did not get up as Morrigan expected. Instead, he began convulsing, and white foam oozed out of his mouth. _Poison, _she realized. Whoever he was, he was a ruthless and efficient killer.

Finally, the platoon came to its collective senses and began to react. With a quick glance over his shoulder, the hooded man realized he was surrounded by archers. He snatched up the crossbow from the dying man at his feet and pointed it casually with one hand at the officer in chain's unhelmeted head.

"I can assure you gentlemen that while Morrigan is most certainly an apostate, she is not a blood mage. You can walk away from this right now, and I'll even let your officer here go free unharmed." The plated officer raised his hand, indicating that the archers should hold their fire.

"My lord, do it! He'll kill me!" The officer in chain pleaded with his commander. All Morrigan could see of the hooded man's face was his mouth, which was currently smiling. He was close enough that she could make out his words clearly, but not close enough to recognize the voice. She was impressed. Right now it didn't much matter to her why he was here, she liked this man. He got results.

"I'm afraid our mission is worth more than your life," the plated officer replied. He brought his arm down, and the crossbowmen at his side put a bolt straight through the junior officer's throat.

The hooded man's smile vanished. He obviously had not been expecting that. Morrigan chuckled. _Let's see you fight your way out of this one, fool_. Still, she did not want to turn away help, and began creeping forward again. With this much distraction, she might get enough time to light up the whole valley after all. As she did, she kept her eyes on the man, fully expecting him to sprout at least a dozen arrows any second.

The commander had the same expectation. He ordered the stunned archers to fire. The hooded man's shoulders sagged slightly, and he cursed under his breath. _This isn't how I hoped this would go_, he whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear. He drew a second blade, and charged the shield wall. Before he had gone two steps, twenty four archers simultaneously let fly. Morrigan watched the small cloud of arrows fly towards her would-be rescuer. _Thanks for trying, friend_, she thought, and began casting her spell. What happened next was so unexpected that she fumbled the words, fizzling her spell.

The hooded man released a sudden surge of very directed, very controlled energy. Instead of being skewered, the man suddenly blurred, and the arrows were all deflected. It happened too fast for her to see it, but it looked to Morrigan like he had actually _parried_ them. All of them. She didn't believe what she saw. She got her hopes up. Maybe this would turn out alright after all.

The hooded figure continued his charge towards the shield wall. He was still several paces away, and the archers were already firing another volley. If they were shaken by what they had just seen, they were too professional to show it. The next volley was nearly point blank, and Morrigan knew there was no way the mysterious figure could duplicate his feat. He did it anyway. She narrowed her eyes, and her hopes deflated again. The only way he could be doing that was by magic, and magic was the wrong tool to use against a Templar. Sure enough, the plated officer was already winding up a mana burn. She quickly stopped her spell and hardened her energy to prevent getting caught in the energy disruption that would follow. The Templar finished his incantation, and a brilliant blue light flashed in every direction, fully engulfing the hooded figure.

_Poor fool, he really had the wrong idea about how to do this_. Morrigan knew she should be either running or fighting, probably running, since her rescuer was obviously an idiot, but she couldn't. She stood transfixed, needing to see how this played out. When the light of the mana burn subsided, the crossbowman took another shot at him, just before he reached the shield wall. Fascinated, Morrigan couldn't pull her eyes away. He parried that bolt just like he had the others. This time the blurring was minimal, since he only had to deflect a single projectile, but deflect it he did, with the same superhuman speed. Morrigan narrowed her eyes. _I _have_ seen something like this before. But this can't be him. It can't be._

Too close for arrows now, the hand to hand fight was quick and brutal. The man impacted on the shield wall, and began cutting the footmen to pieces. His strokes were few in number but high in violence. His movements were quick and precise, devoid of flair, but they were not without a certain predatory style of their own. His blades sang through the air, cutting through flesh and bone, sending blood flying everywhere. When he was blocked by a shield, he cut off the sword hand of the man blocking him. Where he was blocked by a man, he parried his sword and buried his blade in the exposed parts of his body where the armor didn't cover. When he was in a hurry, he simply put his blade right through the breast plate. His momentum quickly carried him through the now-shattered shield wall, and the front row of archers had to draw clubs or daggers. The officer screamed for order. The back row cut and ran.

Morrigan had seen enough. It looked like the man had things under control, and she really didn't want to be around to have to answer whatever his purpose was any more than she did the Chantry's. She changed into a wolf, and sprinted as fast as she could back down the valley to where she'd hidden Sarah. As she burst through the trees, her heart nearly stopped. There was a soldier poking around the very stump her daughter was hiding in, and she was too far away to stop him from finding her. He'd find her any second. She desperately began the transformation back into human form, hoping to blast him into oblivion with her staff. Before she completed the change, the soldier looked up and behind him, startled. She heard the pounding feet of something heavy, and a dark brown Mabari burst out of the bush, knocking the man over clear over, and crushing his ribs when they landed. Not content to let his prey suffocate, the Mabari literally bit the man's face off, blinding him, and nearly crushing his skull. The Mabari released his face and went for his throat. Blood gushed from between his teeth as he shook the man from side to side by his neck, until there was a large crack and he stopped moving and fell limp. The huge dog backed up off of him, and began sniffing the stump, as if he smelled Sarah. He stuck his head into the stump, and pulled her out. The girl was too terrified to move.

Morrigan, now human again, lifted her staff, and hoped she could take the dog by surprise. She'd been on the wrong end of a Mabari attack before, and didn't relish doing it again. She lowered her weapon. The dog had gently released her daughter, and was now prancing around her with his rear in the air, barking happily. _I've been on the right side of a Mabari attack before too. That really does look a lot like Dog, but it can't be, because that would mean..._

From behind her, she heard a soft and familiar voice: "Hey."


	24. Chapter 23: A Living Messenger is Best

Morrigan whirled around, the look of shock plain on her face. The man standing in front of her was a mess. His chainmail was drenched with blood, so much that for a moment she almost thought that he'd had buckets of it dumped on him. Thinking back to how many Chantry soldiers had been in that valley, she realized that her reaction might not be that far off. She knew it was him, but she just wasn't able to believe it until he removed his hood, which he did, slowly. It was him, alright. She stood there, dumbfounded, as she tried to take it all in. After four years of sleepless nights and regrets, days full of wondering if she should have just let him come with her, or never even left in the first place, and then here he was. In the flesh. Right there in front of her, covered in blood, breath steaming in the frigid air as he panted, hair blowing in the wind. Speaking of his har, he had grown it out, nearly to shoulder length, and had adopted the martial half-ponytail that she knew was popular among Grey Wardens. He had also grown a beard. His face looked a little bit older, as if aged by wisdom forced by hardship. His eyes were the same as they had always been: dark brown and full of warmth. He smiled, enjoying her reaction. She quickly recovered herself and lashed out in annoyance that even she knew was false.

"You could not have given us a bit of warning, Warden? I nearly blasted Dog into a hundred furry pieces just now." She did her best to look angry, but despite a lifetime of placing a shell between her feelings and her outward appearance, she could already feel her insides melting, as they always did when he was around. _Damn him!_ He just kept smiling, and began slowly closing the distance between them.

"I missed you, Morrigan."

It was just like him to see right through her façade, and the anger she wanted to feel was quickly evaporating under the onslaught of the happiness and relief that was threatening to spread all through her body. After a moment she gave up, and embraced the inevitable.

"I am glad you are here, Warden." Her resolve wavered but a moment longer, and then she closed what little distance remained and put her arms around him, blood and all. She felt him tense, startled by her quick reversal of demeanor, but then he melted into the embrace and she felt his heartbeat, his warmth, and then she was lost in a wave of emotion. Everything that had happened between them, the happiness, the pain of their separation, the agony and constant fear of the last several years, all bubbled up at once. She didn't know how to handle it all, couldn't handle it all, and it was overwhelming her, and then here he was, with his arms around her, and it was like it was all ok, everything was going to be alright, none of the bad things could get her anymore and it didn't matter anyway even if they did. Neither of them had the words to say what they felt, but they didn't need them. The embrace said it all for them. Morrigan breathed in his warmth, his aura of safety, and relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in years. It had been so long since she'd let her guard down that at first she wasn't sure she could, but after a few deep breaths she was able to. Then she just enjoyed the strength of his arms and chest, solid and real, and closed her eyes.

The moment might have gone on forever, but their daughter, who did not understand what was going on, decided to take matters into her own hands, and "rescue" her mother from the "bad man who was crushing her". She picked up a stick, and with the stealth only a child can achieve, walked right up and began hitting Aedan's leg with it. The pair, completely and uncharacteristically unaware of their surroundings, jumped.

"Do not do that!" Morrigan yelled, forgetting for a moment that Sarah was only a child, and didn't know any better.

"Mommy, get away from the bad man! I'll save you!"

Aedan struggled not to laugh. The girl was too small to actually hurt him, but the sheer absurdity of it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. Truly, this fiery little girl was their daughter. Morrigan knelt down, and extended her arms out to her daughter.

"Come here, my daughter, I want you to meet someone. This man is not an enemy. He is your father."

The girl's eyes got very big. She looked at the bloodstained man standing in front of her with an expression of amazement, mixed with one of skepticism she could have only learned from her mother. "You're my daddy, mister? You're not one of the bad men?" Aedan knelt down slowly, so that he was almost eye level with his daughter.

"No, Sarah, I'm not one of the bad men. I'm here to make the bad men go away."

Morrigan's eyes snapped to Aedan's, but Sarah beat her to the punch:

"How do you know my name?"

Aedan shifted his gaze from Sarah to Morrigan, returning her gaze, and only smiled. His eyes twinkled, like they knew a secret, but despite her withering glare, they betrayed only mystery. "I've got lots to tell you both, but right now is not the time. We've got to go make sure that we're all the way out of this trap. Morrigan, do you have a camp near here, or anything like that?"

"Yes, about a hundred yards further into the valley (she pointed), just past where Dog pulled Sarah out of the log."

"Mommy, it's _the_ dog, not just dog!" Sarah complained, not understanding the not so subtle pun Aedan had used years earlier when naming his dog. Morrigan sighed, and gave Aedan another grimace of annoyance (or was it affection?).

"No, honey, in this case it really is Dog. You see, your father (who was smiling innocently), in all his wisdom, thought that it would be funny to name his dog 'Dog', because he knew it would confuse everyone he ever met."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "That's silly, mister. How old were you anyway?"

"About twenty-two, if I recall. Is that right, boy? Are you really eight years old now?"

Dog barked happily in confirmation.

"Well mister, I still think you're silly."

Aedan picked his daughter up and held her for the first time.

"Maybe." He flicked the end of her nose gently and she began to wriggle in his arms trying to get free as he began tickling her.

"Hey, mister, stop that!" she eventually got out, through the giggles. Aedan put her down gently and stood back up.

"As you wish. But don't call me mister, call me daddy."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, and looked at her mother, seeking confirmation. Morrigan nodded. This was all the proof Sarah needed. She hugged her father's leg and looked up at him, happy in the way that only a child can be. Morrigan couldn't help herself. She smiled too. She had had a handful of perfect moments in her life, most of them involving the (her) Warden, but all paled next to this one. She loved this child in a way she knew Flemeth had never loved her, and she knew that Aedan did too. For a moment, she understood what Aedan meant when he talked of family, and his life growing up before adulthood had changed the world for him so many years ago. The moment was fleeting, but as far as she was concerned, that was all a lifetime was: a series of fleeting moments.

Dog padded over to Morrigan, barked happily, and began jumping up and down with excitement (causing the ground to shake slightly), drooling everywhere. She knelt down to pat him, which put him at about eye level. It was all the opening he needed. He planted a large, very smelly, and very wet kiss all over her. She groaned, and tried to wipe the dog spit off of her. She narrowed her eyes. Dog's ears drooped, and Morrigan almost scolded him angrily. Normally she would have been disgusted, and had literally killed men for doing less, but Aedan's mabari had melted her heart long ago. Before he had, in fact. Instead, she simply smiled, and gave Dog a hug. His tail resumed wagging.

Sarah had been looking on in interest. She had never seen a dog before, but instinctively knew that they were "cute and fuzzy", as long as her parents told her it wouldn't eat her if she touched it. So she asked.

"Daddy, will your dog hurt me if I give him a hug too?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Okay! Dog, can I pat you?"

Dog squirmed out of Morrigan's arms and ran over to Sarah, sat down, and made absolutely no sound.

"Does that mean yes?" Sarah asked uncertainly.

"Go ahead, honey, Dog won't hurt you. He's sitting still so that you know it's ok to say hello."

Sarah smiled even wider, and walked clumsily up to the dog, which was taller than she was, and outweighed her by at least a factor of 7 or 8.

"Hello, Dog!"

Dog barked, stood up, and licked her. The force knocked Sarah over. She giggled, stood up, and hugged her new best friend.

"Throw a stick for him Sarah, he'll chase it and bring it back to you."

Sarah did, and Dog took off at a sprint after the stick, and Sarah chased after him. Aedan looked at Morrigan.

"Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of 'fetch' if she goes too?"

Morrigan shrugged. They watched Sarah play with Dog for several minutes.

"I have never seen her this excited, Warden. Nor your dog."

"He's her dog, now, I imagine. I love that mabari, and he loves me, but there's no way I can compete with the love of a little girl."

Morrigan was quiet for a moment. He'd subtly implied that he was staying. She knew this was what she wanted, had wanted all along, but there had been a reason she'd had to leave four years ago, and as far as she knew that had not changed. She turned to him, her heart pounding as it hadn't in years, and tried to tell him.

"Aedan.."

He was still smiling as he turned his head. As soon as he saw her eyes, he knew it was time to be serious, and in an instant he was all business.

"Don't worry about that. I've taken care of it."

_How can he possibly even know what I was about to say, let alone actually have done something about it?_

"Just trust me, Morrigan. Even if I'm wrong, I wouldn't need to leave for several weeks at least. But I'm not.

Morrigan looked uncertain. Aedan stepped closer and pulled her back into a hug.

"Trust me, Morrigan, just trust me. Do you think I'd show up, now, after four years, after all the pain separating caused us, if I thought we'd have to do it all over again? I finally figured out why you had to leave. That's the reason I stopped trying to find you. I realized that if I did catch up to you you'd just have to leave again. I didn't start looking again until I solved the problem."

_That does explain some things._

For the hundredth time since she met him, she sighed and felt her resistance crumble.

"Fine, Warden, I will take you at your word. But I will need answers. A guarantee will not be enough, not even from you."

He nodded.

"Fair enough. You've got questions, and I'll give you the answers. But later. We've got a lot to deal with first, like getting your camped packed and us out of here, for one." They broke the embrace, but they continued to hold hands as they walked the short distance to Morrigan's camp. Sarah and Dog followed at a loose distance, still engrossed in their game of fetch and chase. They reached the camp, which was really just two tents and a small fire.

"How quickly can the two of you get packed?"

"About twenty minutes, why?"

"I'm going to go back and make sure we don't' get any more fun surprises. Will you be alright for half an hour or so?"

"Yes. We will meet you there when we are packed."

Aedan frowned.

"Should Sarah really see that kind of slaughter?"

"Trust me, Warden, she has seen a lot worse, and not just the aftermath." Her expression was dark. Aedan nodded in understanding.

"Alright. See you in a bit, then."

"Aedan, wait. What if some more circle around and hit us from this side, how will you know if we need your help?"

"Keep Dog with you, just in case. If you need me, don't' worry, I'll know."

Then he was gone. _What does he mean, he'll know? More secrets! _She shook her head, and called Sarah over to help her pack the camp up. She was feeling vulnerable. They'd have the camp packed in fifteen minutes and be on their way.

Minutes later, Aedan arrived at the scene of the carnage he had caused less than half an hour earlier. The blood was still steaming. He scanned the area quickly, looking for any sign that someone was waiting for him, but saw no one. He quickly moved from body to body, looking for rank insignia, maps, orders, or anyone left alive. He found nothing of interest on any of the bodies, even the officers. He was about to give up and go see if Morrigan and Sarah needed any help with the packing when he heard a soft groan. He ran quickly to the body of a man who was obviously still alive. It was one of the hatchetmen that had been guarding the senior officer. For a moment he was confused, because none should have survived the poison, but he thought about it for a moment, and it was reasonable that by the time he'd gotten to this man the poison would have been used up by the scores of bodies that had fallen before him.

The man was not conscious, but clearly alive. He drew one of his small daggers and knelt down beside the man. He tapped the knife against his leg for a moment, thinking. He had a choice to make. He put the dagger away and pulled out his canteen instead. He lifted the soldier's head, and carefully poured a mouthful of water down his throat, so as not to make him choke. Then he surveyed the wounds. He had done a number on this man. His chest was sliced open, and his arm was broken. He was still bleeding, albeit slowly.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm about to hurt you, and bad. If I don't do this, you won't ever use that arm again. Then I'm going to hurt you some more. If I don't, you'll bleed to death or die of infection. Bite down on this." He put the handle of one of his daggers in the man's mouth. He was not verbally responsive, but he did bite down on the leather. Aedan quickly pulled on the man's arm and set the bone with a sharp crack. The man screamed in agony, or would have, if not for the leather strip in his mouth preventing him from biting off his tongue.

"The worst is over, but the next part isn't going to be fun either, friend." He pulled out a small bottle of very special oil and poured it out over the man's sliced chest. The oil was designed to disinfect and cauterize by alchemical burning. It hurt far worse than the wounds it was designed to treat, but it saved lives. This time the soldier did not scream, but he did spasm and contort with pain. When it was over, he spat the leather strip out of his mouth and spoke.

"More water, please," he gasped. Aedan gave it to him, slowly. "Thank you, friend."

"Slow down, there. Don't thank me. I'm not your friend, and I haven't saved your life. You're going to deliver a message for me."

"I don't understand, I don't need to be alive to deliver a message."

Aedan smiled. "No, you don't. Personally, I want to let you live. But it isn't up to me."

"Who is it up to?" The soldier was nearly crying now. It hurt Aedan to have to do this, but he could afford no sentiment, for the Chantry Commander had made it clear he was not having any.

"The Witch."

The soldier closed his eyes and sank his head back into the ground. He said a prayer under his breath, as the realization hit him that his life was now in the hands of the woman he had been sent to hunt down and kill.

"Cheer up. If she decides she'd rather have you deliver our message dead, I swear to you I'll make it quick. You will feel no pain. Here, drink this in the meantime. It will dull the pain you still feel, and calm your nerves. I won't have the discussion with her in front of you, for that would be cruel."

The soldier nodded grimly. He would prefer not to die, but his opponent had beaten him in a fight designed to be unfair, and already shown him mercy. He felt no ill will towards this man. If his companion decided to kill him, he would be ready for death.

Aedan patted him on the shoulder and headed back towards Morrigan's camp. He was nearly to the bushes when Morrigan stepped out, carrying Sarah. Dog emerged a moment later.

"We have a decision to make, Morrigan."

"Oh? Truly? Just one?"

"One of the men survived. I've stabilized his wounds."

"What?! Why?" This time Morrigan's annoyance wasn't faked. She had missed many things about the Warden, but his misguided sense of empathy was not one of them.

"This whole scene will already send the Chantry Commander a message. He survived the fight, and there was no need for him to die. He's in no shape to pursue us. Besides, he can send a far better message alive than dead."

"Fine. Just make it quick." Morrigan shook her head. She would never understand the way he thought, but she'd learned long ago to simply trust him and not worry about it. To date, he'd never led them astray. If he wanted to go play medic to the enemy, that was fine as far as she was concerned.

Aedan nodded, and strode back to the fallen man.

"Good news, friend. You're going to send a message for me, and you'll do it alive."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Tell the Chantry Commander that Morrigan and I are leaving this area, and he should let us go, if he knows what's good for him. He knows I was in his camp two nights ago, and I could have killed him and all his officers, but I didn't. I could have killed you, but I didn't. I've no intention of taking this fight to him, but if he doesn't leave us alone, I will, and there won't be a damn thing he can do to protect himself from my blade. Got all that?"

The soldier nodded.

"Good. Here's some whiskey, a blanket, and some food. I'm sure your friends will be along in a few hours to get you proper medical attention. We will be long gone before they arrive."

The soldier turned to look at his opponent once more, but he had already disappeared. He pulled the blanket over himself, and took a swig from the whiskey flask. _Strange, I didn't hear him leave_, he thought as the darkness took him once more. He would sleep comfortably until the Chantry Commander arrived, hours later, to see what a mess the Warden had made of his best troops.


	25. Chapter 24: Together Again At Last

The chantry commander walked the field, surveying the destruction the Warden had wrought. According to the surviving bodyguard, he'd done it alone, and his movements had been … _strange_. He reported that Cousland had actually parried an entire volley of arrows on his way towards his troops, like he was hasted somehow. Worse, the Templars tried to mana burn him, and it had no effect. _The rumors are true, then. He really does ha__ve some kind of power we've never heard of_. The commander shivered despite his thick coat. Cousland's warning echoed in his thoughts as reported by the only survivor of the carnage: _Tell him I've no intention of taking this fight to him, but if he doesn'__t leave us alone, I will, and there won't be a damn thing he can do to protect himself from my blade. _The Warden had successfully linked back up with Morrigan, despite everything he'd tried to prevent it. He grimaced, for the umpteenth time since he took this assignment. Things would get harder now, he knew, but his orders were to kill the witch and capture her child. The presence of the Warden might well make that task impossible, and would almost certainly lead to his own death, but returning to his superiors in Denerim empty handed surely would.

The four of them trekked on all day, not even stopping for food, in order to be out of range of whatever scouting force the chantry might send out when they discovered the battlefield they had left behind. Sarah was actually small enough to ride on Dog's back when she got tired, so they covered a lot of ground. Aedan and Morrigan didn't say much to each other at first. They didn't really know where to begin, and the task at hand kept them both preoccupied enough that they didn't need to make excuses to each other for their silence. That isn't to say that they did not communicate, however. From the moment they broke camp, they slowly began the process of accepting each other back into their lives: Morrigan watched in annoyed gratitude as the Warden effortlessly slung her pack over his shoulder and kept walking like it weighed nothing, leaving her to carry his very small, very light shoulder bag. When they eventually did stop, Aedan would enjoy having someone around with a fully stocked herb bag to make an otherwise bland dinner taste delicious. They had started walking far apart, Aedan far in front, and Morrigan further back, next to Dog and Sarah. This didn't suit Sarah well, who wanted to play a continuous game of fetch with her new friend. Within an hour, Aedan had drifted back, and Morrigan had drifted forward, putting them both within feet of each other, leaving them no excuse but to eventually talk to each other.

It was awkward at first. They had been apart for several years, and the conditions of their parting had been incredibly painful to each of them. Despite the fact that every moment of his existence since then had been dedicated to bringing about this reunion, now that it had actually occurred, he was nervous in a way he had never been around her before.

For Morrigan, despite the fact that she'd spent every waking moment since she'd insisted she leave wondering if she'd made the wrong decision, secretly hoping against her declared intention of evading him that he would catch up, it was strange to have him back again. She was a very independent woman, and would never admit that she needed his help (least of all to herself). She warred with her competing desire for him and her desire to not have to listen to someone say "I told you so."

Rather than go crazy trying to sort through these competing desires, Morrigan consigned herself to think about nothing, and instead watched her Warden. He looked better than when she'd last seen him. Healthier. He had a constitution of iron and a will like steel, but he'd never had a chance to recover from being tortured by Howe before the Archdemon had surfaced and they'd all been called off to war. She knew he'd seen far worse after she left, but looking at him now, you would never know it. His muscle tone was even better than when she'd first met him, like he'd spent the last several months doing nothing but training (which was in fact the truth), and she allowed herself the enjoyment of watching his graceful movements, content in her knowledge that she was being discreet. Sarah, of course, seeing everything, instinctively trusted the strange new man that her mommy told her was her daddy, because her mother didn't look at _anyone_ that way. The Warden, for his part, took every chance he could get to sneak a glance back at Morrigan. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her raven-black hair was still kept tied in back, with just a little bit loose in front, as if begging to be brushed back by a gentle hand. As always, her garb was both functional and striking at the same time. He had never seen anyone make garments that could both accentuate natural beauty and be so durable and practical at the same time, and her skill had not diminished one bit since she'd been on the run. He could not help but stare. Sarah noticed this too, which only confirmed her theory that Aedan could be trusted. She knew from experience that _no one_ was allowed to look at her mother like that and live. She kept playing with Dog, curiously observing her parents, eager to see how this played out. It infuriated her young sense of things that the two of them were not talking to each other yet, as it was so _obvious_ to her that they had so much to say.

Eventually, while they stopped for water, Morrigan tried to break the silence. Sarah was sitting with Dog under a tree, feeding him a Mabari Crunch that she'd managed to sneak out of Aedan's pack, and Aedan was kneeling by the river filling their canteens. She watched him for a moment, and walked over to him, determined to say... _something_. She wasn't sure what.

"Aedan..." _Dammit, why do you always get so flustered around him? You never have trouble finding somethi__ng biting to say around anyone else!_

Aedan stood up and closed the canteen he had just finished filling. He turned to face her, patiently waiting for her to say whatever it was she had to say. She looked into his eyes, gentle and caring, but she had to look away. She just didn't have the words, for she wasn't sure what she felt. Understanding this, the Warden took a step forward, out of the water and towards her. Sarah pretended to keep feeding Dog even though he'd finished the snack long before in order to watch.

"Morrigan," he said softly, "Don't worry. As you used to say, 'now is not the time.' Once we're camped for the night, we can have a long discussion, I'll explain everything, and we can figure out what to do from there. Fair enough?"

Morrigan still felt worried, and looked it, but she nodded. He was right of course, and there was a time when she would have remembered it and been the one telling him that they'd talk about it later. He took another step towards her, handed her the canteen, and put his arms around her. She did likewise, pressing her face against his chest and they stood there for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say, but both spoke volumes. Both were stiff with uncertainty and unhealed pain as they clung to each other.

Aedan kissed her on the temple and then whispered into her ear, "Till then, we'll just keep throwing each other furtive and suggestive glances when we think Sarah's not looking, yeah?"

Morrigan giggled in spite of herself. The comment was so unexpected, but he'd broken the ice completely. She relaxed, smiled, and turned her head to look him in the eye. His eyes twinkled naughtily, like they always had before, when they'd be in the middle of a group, or a room full of people, or a battle, and he'd look at her, say something silly and completely accurate like that, and it would feel like the entire world contained just the two of them, no matter how much chaos spun around them.

"We should go." She knew they should, but she was grinning and didn't really want to stop.

"Probably." He was grinning too. There was really only one thing to be done. Sarah tilted her head studiously, trying to figure out exactly where their tongues went when they did that. When they were done, Aedan squeezed Morrigan's hand, and the two of them walked back hand in hand to where their daughter sat, innocently patting her dog and presumably oblivious to what had passed between them.

"Let us go, Sarah, we have a ways to go yet before we stop for the night."

"Yes, mother." She got up happily. "Come on, Dog!" She skipped along, wondering why adults were so insistent on trying to hide things that were so obvious to anyone who was paying any attention at all. Her parents, still holding hands, watched her skip. They were both confused and didn't know what would happen in the coming days or weeks, but as the sun dipped lower in the sky, both were confident that at least the next few hours would be nothing if not good.

They made camp half an hour before sunset. By the time Aedan had a fire going (he was happy to finally get to cook a genuine hot meal after days of either scrounging scraps from his pack or simply going without), Morrigan already had the camp set up. He walked over, clapping the dirt off his hands as he went. He smiled when he saw that Morrigan had only pitched the two tents he'd seen at their camp, rather than his as well. His gear lay next to hers at the opening of her tent. He felt happy for the first time in years. He stood there a moment longer, thinking, then turned back to go check on the food. He nearly tripped over Sarah, who had been standing there behind him, quiet as, well, him. _She's my daughter, alright._

"What are we having for dinner, Daddy?" She was nearly jumping up and down with excitement. _Maybe she hasn't had the chance to have a decent meal in a while either?_

"Well, I've got a special treat for the four of us, my dear. Want to help me stir the stew?"

She nodded eagerly. The stirring spoon was nearly as long as her arm, but she handled it deftly, and stirred the stew without spilling it or burning herself, though Aedan didn't move an inch away from her, ready to intervene if she was about to accidentally harm herself in any way.

"What now?"

Aedan raised an eyebrow. "What now? We wait!" Sarah's eyes got wide.

"Do we _have _to? It smells so good!"

"Yep, or it won't taste right." He leaned in conspiratorially, "You wouldn't want it to taste... _icky_, would you?" Sarah shook her head vigorously, like he'd suggested doing something terrible like eating her vegetables or something. "Good. Trust me, it will be worth the wait. An old friend taught me this recipe, and it has never disappointed."

An hour later, Sarah's eyes got wide again when she tasted Leliana stew for the first time.

"It's good, isn't it?"

"Ya!" she squeeled.

"You should taste the real thing. This recipe was given to me by a friend your mother and I traveled with years ago. She was the best singer, cook, and archer either of us ever met."

Morrigan sat down on the other side of Sarah, and tasted the stew.

"You are right, Warden, it was better when she made it. But this is very good stew." She said it dryly, but not unkindly. Aedan knew she disliked any mention of _that girl_, but she could not dispute Leliana's expertise as a cook. Just for fun, he decided to rub it in a little.

"She says hello, by the way."

"Who?"

_"That girl._"

Morrigan's glare could have ignited fresh paint, but Aedan only chuckled. Morrigan kept glaring in a "tonight I'm going to melt your insides, and not in a fun way," way but it was all part of the game. Eventually, Morrigan gave up the glare, took another bite of the stew, and Aedan was almost sure she was smiling slightly. Since the water break at the river hours earlier, things had been almost completely back to normal between them, and that included some very harsh banter that onlookers unfamiliar had often mistaken for genuine hostility, but their friends recognized it for what it was: namely, deep affection between the swamp witch of Ferelden and the man who loved her. When they were done, Aedan collected the bowls and washed them while Morrigan got Sarah ready for bed.

"I like my daddy, Mommy," Sarah said as Morrigan tucked her in.

"Me too, sweetie."

"Is he going to stay with us forever and ever and keep the bad men away?"

Morrigan didn't answer right away. She knew he intended to, and she was pretty sure she wanted him to, but he still hadn't explained how it was going to be possible. She could tell Sarah wouldn't drop it though, and Morrigan took a risk, and hoped the Warden knew what he was talking about.

"Yes. Yes he is." She cringed on the inside as she said it, because she remembered how well the memory of a child worked when comparing a parent's actions to her promises. She did not want to have to break this promise to her daughter.

"I'm glad. Can I sleep with Dog?"

"In your tent?" Morrigan raised an eyebrow uncertainly.

"Ya!"

Morrigan looked at Dog, sitting nearby, slobbering adorably, and then dubiously at the size of Sarah's tent.

"Are you sure he will fit?"

"Course! I had him in here earlier."

Morrigan shrugged. "Did you ask your father? It is his dog."

"Nope! He said he was my dog now."

"In that case, yes, you may sleep with Dog."

Dog didn't wait for an invitation. He padded past Morrigan into the tent, turned in a circle once, and settled heavily onto Sarah's blankets and sighed happily as the little girl snuggled up next to him and put her arm around him. Sarah yawned and smiled. Her eyes were heavy, and as much as she wanted to stay awake, it had been a big day, and she was tired. Morrigan stroked her hair gently, kissed her on the forehead, and closed the tent behind her. She made her way back to the fire, which Aedan was absently poking with a stick. It was getting late, but Morrigan grabbed some more wood anyway. She expected to be up late into the night, for the two of them had much to discuss. The fire sparked and cracked with the addition of fresh fuel. Morrigan sat down next to the Warden. After a moment he stopped poking the fire, threw his stick into the pit, and put his arm around Morrigan, who leaned into him contentedly. The two of them sat in silence for several minutes, watching the sparks ride the air currents of the fire high into the sky before winking out and disappearing. The two of them had much that needed said, but as usual, they were in no hurry. The fire and the company were warm, and danger seemed far away. Eventually Aedan spoke.

"Tell me everything about her."

"Sarah?"

Aedan nodded. "What is she like? What does she like to eat? Is she sneaky like me or powerful like you?"

"You have already seen what she is like, Warden. She is a healthy, happy, little girl. She loves meat and detests vegetables of all kinds. She loves animals, and animals love her. She has both your patience and my stubbornness. She has all the resourcefulness and tenacity that one might expect, being the product of a pair such as us, and then some."

"Dog seems to like her."

"She actually mentioned something about that. She says that you told her that he is her dog now. I was there when you said it, but I did not fully grasp your meaning."

"I meant it. Fereldan nobles don't choose their Mabari, you know."

"Oh? You cannot possibly mean that the beasts choose your or anything as silly and romantic as that, can you?"

"Yes and no. Despite their elevated status among canines, they are still only dogs. A man may choose any dog he likes. But a Mabari will only truly recognize a master of his own choosing. He may fight for years at the side of a man he does not respect, and then turn on his master when he needs him most. A wise noble will spend an afternoon with all the pups of a new litter, and wait for one to choose him. Once a mabari chooses his master, he will always be loyal, to the bitter end and then some. Fereldan kings of old were often buried with their Mabari, you know."

"I had heard the legend. But what does that have to do with Sarah and Dog?"

"Did you ever wonder how Dog knew to be so careful with Sarah when he took her out of the log? Yes, Dog has always loved children, and he especially loves eating the faces of Chantry soldiers, but the ferocity with which he defended her was unusual, even for him. Surely you noticed that?"

_Actually, Aedan, I was concentrating more on the fact that my daughter was nearly run through by a Chantry soldier, and then almost eaten by a giant dog, so no, I did not notice._

"Hmm," he replied thoughtfully, as if detecting her thoughts, "Well, it was. Back to my earlier point. How did he know who Sarah was? He had never seen her before."

"Simple. Sarah probably smells like you. She is your daughter, after all. Dog must have smelled the similarity."

Aedan shook his head and smiled. "Nope. He knew because she smelled like you."

"Me?"

"Dog knows how important you are to me. He assumed, correctly, that since Sarah smelled like you, she must be equally important, and so he protected her at all costs."

"But what about him being Sarah's dog now. Does that make him no longer your dog?"

"No, of course not. But a mabari who loves his master will take whatever action is necessary to protect him and whatever is important to him. In this case, that means Sarah. He is Sarah's dog, because he thinks the way he can best please his master is to guard Sarah every moment of every day, which is what I expect he'll do from now on. Hence, he is her dog now."

"I see. That brings me to the next point, then. I took a big risk an hour ago, Warden. Sarah asked if you were going to stay forever and protect her from the bad men. Do you know what I told her?"

Aedan shook his head slowly. It was evident he was afraid of the answer.

"I told her yes."

"You did?" The shock was plain on Aedan's face. He hadn't expected Morrigan to make any kind of a commitment like that so soon, especially in front of Sarah, who was too young to understand why he had left if he had to. Morrigan gently removed Aedan's arm from her shoulders and faced him fully to drive her words home.

"Yes. Do not make a liar out of me, Warden. I think it is time you gave me some answers." She was not threatening him by any means, but she was not joking either. Aedan nodded.

"You'll have them. What do you want to know first?"

She thought about it.

"Why are you here? Now, I mean. I know you've been out of your fade coma for years. I felt you come out of it, and expected you would come after me immediately, but you did not. As the years went by, I almost began to think you were finally going to respect my wishes and were not going to come at all."

"Do you want to know why I am here now, or why I did not come immediately?"

"Both. But I want to know why you did not come immediately first."

"Preparation."

"Please, do explain."

"I learned a lot during the fade coma, but I'll get to that in a minute. When I woke up, I realized that there were a lot of things I really needed to do, because once I did come after you, I may never get a chance to come back. Again, that meant I needed to make some preparations."

"Several years' worth of preparations?"

"Believe it or not, I actually would have waited at least another year if I'd had my way. This gets complicated, but until I explain the rest, let us just say that unless you were actually in danger, I could take my time. I was no longer desperate."

"Very well, I will accept that answer, provided you explain more fully. What about the second part of my question? If you had intended to wait another full year, why are you here now? Not," she added gently, "that I am not glad to see you. I am. And I do want you to stay. But, why now?"

"You remember how I said 'as long as you weren't in danger I had no hurry?'"

Morrigan nodded.

"Well, how much do you know about the current political situation?"

"Not much, I will admit. I never cared much for politics, and I have had even less occasion than usual to keep myself apprised," she replied sarcastically.

"In short, it's not good. The kingdom isn't threatened or anything like that; Alistair's actually a terrific king. By the way, he says hi too." Morrigan shot him another glance, and he continued. "Well, while I was out chasing you the first time, the Darkspawn regrouped and launched a sort of afterblight, complete with a talking darkspawn leader."

"Darkspawn do not talk, Aedan."

"Believe me, I know. Well, the Chantry blamed us...me. They said that it was my fault for dabbling in things I had no business doing, and that in saving myself I had doomed all of Ferelden." Morrigan bristled.

"They are nothing but a committee of ignorant fools!"

"Don't I know it. Well, when I got back from chasing you, the afterblight was in full swing, and the Chantry, always wanting to look as it if was Doing Something arrested me and attempted to try me for high treason. Which was a funny thing, being that I was back in Denerim answering a specific call by the king to command Ferelden's armies. Very little gratitude, I'd say, and not too bright, pissing off the man that the king said was the only one who could save us. Well, needless to say that pissed Alistair off just a bit, so then the Chantry started in on him too, claiming he was a traitor to the brotherhood and would lead us into ruin. Again, a very big miscalculation on their part, being that Alistair is the most popular king in recent history, even more so than Maric. The people rioted, and the Chantry had to reverse course or risk being rejected by the citizens and robbed of all power."

"Why do I get the feeling you meant to insert the word 'publicly' before 'reverse?'"

"Now you're getting it. Things got worse as time went on. Since I was untouchable, unless of course I had some kind of tragic accident while applying poison to one of my blades, they began stirring up trouble as far as you were concerned. They claimed that the Swamp Witch had clouded the Warden's judgment, and that it wasn't my fault what occurred. The people were willing to accept this, despite Alistair and my attempts to spread the truth. Neither of us wanted things to be any harder for you than they had to be."

"I assume that when you say the situation is not good you mean that the Chantry's influence is increasing again, which is why they've been able to come after me in such an organized and coordinated manner?"

"Yep. About a year ago, Grand Bishop McNarren successfully angled for the Regency. His platform was built on hunting down all rogue mages, especially the Swamp Witch and her spawn."

"Not that I think your politics will do us one damn bit of good, Warden, but what will happen next?"

"The Chantry Commander will probably press things too far, attack us one too many times, and I'll have to kill him."

"Then what?"

"Probably civil war. Again. The Chantry won't be able to sit idly by while rogue mages are corrupting Ferelden's heroes. They'll mobilize for war."

"And Alistair and your brother will mobilize to prevent it?"

"I assume so, but for their sake I hope not."

"Was I wrong when I decided that you were not an idiot after all, Warden? Why would you wish him to do nothing while armies mobilize against us?"

"Because it isn't fair for them to risk so much just to help me."

Morrigan felt the frustration bubbling up inside her. She counted slowly to three, and promised herself she would not get irate. "ARE YOU STUPID?" Another broken promise. "You happen to not only have your title back, but your best friend is the damned KING, and you do not want him or your brother to help you stay alive? Truly, Warden, how can you be this foolish?"

"Perhaps fair was the wrong word. It wouldn't be _right_. To abuse royal or noble power for personal reasons, no matter how justifiable, goes against everything Ferelden was built on. The nobles are there to maintain order, yes, but also to serve the people. I am a very rich man, but that wealth does not belong to me. It belongs to my family, and to my title. Though I could technically do so, it is not mine to simply spend as I wish. You may not understand honor, but you do live by a code just as I do." Aedan paused for breath. He realized he'd nearly been shouting, and he took a moment to compose himself. "I know that our codes do not always intersect. Just accept that my code demands that personal desires must not get in the way of duties as a lord or a king," he finished, still unable to fully lower his bristles.

"As usual, Warden, I do not understand your logic but I am prepared to accept it."

"Thank you. Where was I?"

"Finishing explaining that the political situation is bad, and will likely lead to civil war."

"Right. I left both my brother and Alistair an out so that they do not feel forced to protect me and provoke that war. In any event, when word reached me that a detachment had actually located you, I left immediately. Most of Ferelden owes me favors, courtesy of all those 'useless good deeds' we did for everyone we met several years go. I had no problems finding people willing to shelter me and provide me with information. Catching up to the detachment wasn't hard."

"I will admit that your timing was excellent, Aedan. Things have been getting hard the last few weeks."

"You'd have been fine, I've seen you pull yourself out of far worse situations than the one I 'rescued' you from yesterday."

"Perhaps. But I think we are safer together than apart."

"Agreed, certainly. I'll bet the Commander gets called all the way back to Denerim to explain himself for allowing us to reconnect. Anyway. That's why I'm here now, rather than a year ago, or a year from now. I was making preparations, and ran out of time."

"What sorts of preparations, exactly?" Morrigan cocked her head and narrowed her eyes in curiosity.

"I spent years learning how my fade abilities worked, and the last year I've spent training physically. Also, Leliana and I took a little trip to Antiva about six months ago."

"Do tell me that it was not a romantic getaway?"

"Not really, no. We went to stir up a lot of trouble with the Assassin guilds."

"You were hoping to preemptively do what you did to the Crows to the other guilds?"

"Exactly. The Crows never sent a single assassin after me once I killed Zevran and climbed my way up their hierarchy until I got to someone in charge. I figured I would do the same thing to the remaining guilds, so that no one would call in assassins after us once I left, after which it would be much harder for me to do."

"Did it work?"

"Have any assassins come after you?"

"No."

"There you go."

Morrigan shook her head in a mixture of affection, admiration, and amusement. "You are insane, my love." Aedan smiled.

"Do you still think love is a weakness?"

"Of course I do. But even I must admit it has benefits." He cupped her cheek with his hand for a moment and then held her close again.

"Do you want to know about what I learned in the fade, and why I won't have to leave?" he asked softly. Morrigan trembled, and her stomach felt like it was tied in knots again. It just seemed too good to be true, but they'd delayed this moment long enough. She nodded silently.

"You could have told me when you left that the reason I could not follow was the taint."

"I thought you would not understand, would not accept it, would not believe me."

"You are probably right. But the fact remains, having the darkspawn taint that makes me a Grey Warden anywhere near Sarah could destroy everything you hope to accomplish. That part remains true."

Morrigan's heart sank. _Seems too good always _is_ too good..._

"Morrigan, don't worry. I found a way around it."

"How?" She still didn't believe it was possible.

"I'll show you. Stand up, and follow me."

They walked several yards away from the fire to give them room.

"Give me your hands." She did. He pulled her into an embrace. "Am I here?"

"Of course you are. What does this have to do with your taint?"

"Patience, my love. How do you know I'm here?"

Morrigan's brow wrinkled as she tried to understand what he was getting at. "I am touching you. I know you are there." Aedan gently escaped from her arms.

"Now how do you know I am here?"

"I can still see you, Aedan. You are standing right in front of me."

Aedan took several steps backward so that he was standing ten feet in front of her. "So close your eyes." Morrigan sighed, and played along.

"Now what?"

"Am I still here?"

"Well, I am not a Mabari, and you have bathed recently, so I cannot smell you, I certainly cannot taste you, but I can hear you plainly. You are still there."

"Am I?" he whispered gently into her ear. She felt his arms slide around her waist from behind. She shivered, and felt a warmth deep within her. She had not heard him move. It was scary how quiet he was. Dangerous. And she liked that. He gently nipped her ear and then released her. She still hadn't heard a sound.

"Come on, Morrigan, don't give up so easily. You can still find me." This time his voice was back in front of her. She understood the game, now. She focused on his ring, the one she had given him. She could feel its presence, just out of conscious reach. She carefully bent the magic just so, until...there! Though her eyes were still closed, she could tell exactly where he was.

"Good." He hadn't moved, this time. "Now, keep going." Morrigan tried to blink in confusion as he disappeared. He'd taken the ring off. He'd only done that once before since she'd given it to him, and she felt oddly hollow, in a way she hadn't even when he was stuck in the fade. It felt like a part of her were suddenly missing, but she knew she could still find him if she looked carefully enough. She reached out with her senses, looking for his familiar aura. After a moment she found it, and thus knew he'd moved behind her again. She spun around and pointed right at him.

"How do you know where I am?" He asked, amused.

"I am a mage, Aedan, I can sense your aura. You know this."

"Can you?" He said, and then vanished once more.

_Impossible! That is __impossible, he cannot do that! No one can!_

"Aedan?" She asked, startled. She opened her eyes. He was standing less than a foot from her. "How did you do that?"

"The fade spirits taught me how to go completely dark, and broadcast nothing at all. No aura, no presence, no taint. I can stay for the rest of my life with you and Sarah and never put her in danger. Not directly from the aura of my taint, and not by drawing darkspawn to us. I can stay as invisible to them as I was to you just a moment ago."

"You can control this? I would have noticed if you had been running dark all this time since yesterday."

"Now I can, yes. It took me months get it right, so that I can hide my taint without having to give up everything else I can do."

"What is 'everything else,' Warden?"

His smile was wolfish. "Let me start at the beginning. When I tipped into the fade and became lost, I wandered the spirit world killing everything that came within reach. I had no self-control, no consciousness. Just rage and despair. The fade council did not take too kindly to this, and sent the fade version of the Crows after me. It had about as much effect there as it did here. They were considering alternatives like forcibly disconnecting me from the fade, which probably would have razed half of Denerim, when a spirit named Quagroth figured out who I was."

"What do you mean, are you known to the fade?"

"Actually yes, and you are too."

"That makes no sense whatsoever."

"It does. You see, apparently our love is somewhat unique. Wynne said that our auras have actually blended, and that by the time you left she could not tell us apart unless she was physically looking at us. This does not normally happen, as I'm sure you know."

"It certainly does not!" Her eyes were darting back and forth as she considered the magical ramifications of the realization.

"Well, it happened to us. Apparently it gave the high spirits quite a show as our spirits intertwined over the course of that year. When they found out who I was and why I was stuck, they offered me everything they had to help me find you."

"What, exactly, did they have?"

"They told me a glimpse of my future, for one."

"Oh? And what did this glimpse tell you?"

"That I'd find you again, someday, and that everything would work out okay."

Morrigan was taken aback. Whatever she'd expected the spirits to tell him of his future, it had not been that. "So that is why you felt you had all the time in the world? Because you were told by some spirit that you would see me again?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"There should be a law against faith in those quantities."

"I thought laws don't apply to you?"

"They do not, but they do apply to you, Warden." She grinned.

"Point." He smiled back. "Anyway, in addition to the glimpse into my future and training in blackout mode, they also showed me how to fully utilize gifts I'd already been bestowed. There are many different types of fade spirits. Some are much like us. They form governments, contemplate the meaning of existence, and are general busybodies. Others are more primal. Those primal spirits are created out of one specific focus, like love, or hate, or violence. Occasionally, these spirits pick mortals who strongly represent these qualities, and bind with them. Unbeknownst to me, three spirits bonded with me when we were messing around in the fade while saving the circle of mages. I picked up a spirit of battle, a spirit of love, and a spirit of healing."

"What do they do?"

"You'd actually seen all three before you left. We just didn't really understand it at the time. Do you remember how Wynne kept saying that I seemed to be able to heal you by love alone? The spirit of healing is a passive spirit. The spirits of love and battle are much more active. I can heal you, because I love you. Similarly, I can heal myself in the middle of battle. You remember that from when you all rescued me after I was captured on the job that went bad killing Howe. Not only was I suddenly in good enough shape to fight, but I was able to parry entire flights of arrows to protect Alistair. That was the spirit of battle. When I activate it, time seems to stop, and the arrows, or swords, or whatever seem to move so slowly that I can just bat them all away like they are nothing."

"Which is what you did again yesterday."

"Exactly."

"Can you heal Sarah as well?"

"Probably."

"Because she's your daughter?"

"No. Because she's yours. That is the spirit of love at work."

"Hmm. Can you control these powers?"

"I can now, yes. Like I said, I spent much more than a year just learning to master these powers. There's more, too. There are some abilities that result from our connection that are not mine alone. You share them, as well."

"I think I begin to understand. When you took the ring off, I was not merely finding you by your aura. I was following some kind of other connection."

"That's it exactly. When the spirits look at our spirits, they see two individual human spirits intertwined like strands of twine. That close connection gives us some very special abilities. I have not been able to do very much exploration of them alone, but Wynne came up with some theories on what we could probably do if we practiced."

"What sorts of theories?"

"Well, we can certainly find each other even if separated by hundreds of miles or more. We could probably also communicate, at least in a rudementary form. Basically any emotion can be shared, like how you felt hollow a moment ago when I took the ring off."

"How did you know that!"

"I felt it."

"You felt hollow too?"

"No, but I felt you feel hollow."

"This is very strange, Warden."

"I know it is. And whether we investigate further is a decision we'll have to make together. I know that you like to be a closed book. If we learn to use this connection, it will be harder to hide things from each other, and relationships need a certain amount of distance to work. I do not want you to feel like I've invaded your private thoughts."

"I appreciate that. I will have to think about this. What else did she theorize we might be able to do?"

Aedan shrugged. "She wasn't too sure. But she said that the better we learned to work the connection, the more we could do. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that we could see through each other's eyes, or develop the emotion reading enough to trade thoughts as well as indistinct feelings."

"Warden, ordinarily I would not be comfortable with something like this, but I trust you. I think this would give us great power, and I think we would be foolish to scorn it, especially in time such as these." She sat back down, and gestured to the ground next to her with her head. Aedan sat next to her and put his arm back around her, while they watched the fire die down. Morrigan decided to try an experiment. She tried to sense that connection that Aedan spoke of. She tuned out the ring, and focused just on him. It took effort, but after a few minutes she began to feel a warmth coming from him that had nothing to do with body heat or the rapidly dwindling flames. It was a wholesome and welcoming heat. It did not envelope her; it merely greeted her, embracing her gently, hinting at shared possibilities yet unthought of. She concentrated, trying to reciprocate. As hard as she tried, she could not make it work. She gave up, exhausted, and then all of a sudden she felt everything slide together, and the warmth filled her. All she'd had to do was let it, rather than force it. It filled her completely, from the tip of her nose, down her back, through her legs, and down to her toes. She gasped in wonder, as she realized this is what Aedan felt like every time he heard her voice. Now that she'd figured out how to make the connection work, she was getting ideas...

"Aedan," she asked innocently, "how would you like to know how I feel every time you..." she whispered the rest into his ear, leaving her tongue and breath in his ear after she'd finished the words, and she felt his warmth increase considerably. "Oh, is that a yes?" He didn't reply, only grunted, picked her up, and carried her to the tent. That night, the fade beings saw that their two spirits were not so much entwined as fused.

Morrigan slept better than she could remember. Once they finally drifted off to sleep, that is. Their lovemaking had been passionate and eager. Despite years apart, she was sore in places she didn't even know she'd missed having touched, and she relished it with a contented sigh the next morning once the sun came up.

"Good morning, sleepy head." The Warden smiled and brushed the hair out of her eyes. She didn't say anything for several minutes. Instead, she closed her eyes again and cuddled up against him, resting her head on his chest, counting his heartbeats absentmindedly as he gently rubbed her arm with his fingers.

"You have forgotten nothing in the intervening years since our last joining, Warden," she said at last, but still did not open her eyes. She was rather enjoying waking up with a warm bedroll to greet her instead of just the cold morning air. She was in no hurry. Sarah and Dog were obviously still asleep, or she would be hearing lots of noise about now. She checked the surrounding area for danger almost by reflex, and sensed nothing. As she did so, she felt the Warden's aura tag tentatively along with hers, as if gently exploring this new bond that they were learning how to control. She felt her senses sharpen and extend as she finished her magical sweep.

"That felt strange," he replied after a moment. With her head sitting right over his heart, she could both hear and feel his heightened pulse, although she was beginning to suspect she would be able to count his hearbeats even from the other side of camp if she chose.

"Perhaps. But not unnatural, I do not think." He nodded, and the vibration of his body caused her hair to fall back over her eyes.

"Shall we get up?"

"Mmm. Must we?" she murmered.

"Nope. But I think Sarah probably will. Stay in bed if you want, I'll start breakfast." He kissed the top of her head and gently slid out from under her in order to rise. Morrigan rolled over and propped her head up on her elbow to watch him dress. He had his back to her as he pulled his shirt over his head, followed by his tunic, and finally his lighter set of leather armor.

"You have acquired new scars since last we saw one another," she commented once he had turned around and begun tightening straps and buckles. Her face betrayed nothing, but she saw his expression visibly darken when she mentioned it.

"You have no idea," he whispered, and stopped fiddling with his buckles in order to sit back down. He inhaled deeply and let his breath out slowly, as if remembering how he got all his new scars. Morrigan watched him closely, and felt the stirrings of a deep hurt on his aura.

"The afterblight was much worse than the first war." She did not say it as a question. He quietly nodded, but neither replied nor looked at her. She sat up and put her arms around him and kissed him on his now armored shoulder. She could feel by his stiff posture that he was stuck in his memories, and tried harder to bring him out of it. "How are things now in Denerim?" The change in subject had the desired effect.

"Good and bad," he answered, "as I said last night, Alistair is a very good king, and the people love him. For once we are not rattling sabers back and forth with Orlais, and the Darkspawn are in short supply, even in the Deep Roads. Ferelden is more united than ever, except for the Chantry, which is making all kinds of trouble for Ferelden as a whole, for Alistair generally, and for us specifically, as you know."

"Do you think they will leave us alone now, after their most recent defeat at your hands?"

Aedan snorted. "What do you think?"

"Too true," she sighed. "We will probably have to go on the offensive and kill them at some point."

"No doubt." Aedan grimaced. "I really do tire of the killing, but I fear I will have to do much more of it." Morrigan ran her hand over his armored chest.

"Aedan, for people like us the killing will never stop. 'Tis part of who we are, what makes us us. We cannot cease to vanquish our enemies wherever they may be found any more than a fish can decide not to swim any more."

"Oh, don't worry, I didn't say I was losing my will. Just tired of death, is all. But you're right, we have gifts, and we should not waste them. How about that breakfast, hmm?"

"Please," she said, tilting her head slightly and motioning to the tent flap. Aedan smiled at her one last time, got up, and exited the tent. A few minutes later Morrigan heard the crackling of the fire, and soon the smell of cooking bacon began wafting through the air. As if on cue, she heard Dog wake up, shake himself, and start sniffing in the other tent. Sarah's sounds of wakefulness soon followed. Morrigan dressed quickly, grabbed her staff and herb bag, and went to go see to her daughter.

Sarah, apparently eager to play with her new friend, had beaten her out the tent and was playing fetch with Dog, who was happily running all over the place after the objects Sarah threw. She had apparently learned that fetch worked better if she did not run after the sticks herself, but she was using the extra time to throw extra sticks, meaning that Dog would no more than take off running in one direction before he would have to switch directions in mid bound (which was quite a sight to see) and take off after the other stick. She suspected he was smart enough to know it was fruitless, but he loved to run, and loved to make little girls happy even more.

"We made a beautiful little girl, you and I," the Warden said from just behind her. She could feel his adoration of their daughter almost as a physical warmth. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he handed her a plate. She hadn't heard him approach, but somehow she wasn't startled, as if her body had known he was there, even if she wasn't consciously aware of it. She took a bite of the food, which was both hot enough to burn her mouth (truly, the only way to eat a meal!) and delicious. Aedan put his arms around her waist as she ate in silence, and she leaned back into him.

"'Tis warmer today than it has been. There is not even any snow on the ground," she observed once she had finished her first helping.

"Perhaps you secretly control the weather, and the weather is responding to your improved mood?" he teased.

"Truly? I do have that power, did you not know?" Aedan wasn't quite sure whether she was being serious or not, but he did not doubt that she had the power.

"No doubt. What do you want to do today? More running, or something else?"

"Let us do something else today. After the losses that battalion has taken in the last weeks, they are in no shape to pursue us, not yet. Besides, if they do show up, we will just kill them." She said it so matter-of-factly that he chuckled, and nodded in agreement.

"What then shall we do?"

"I want to experiment."

"Oh? Shouldn't you have mentioned this last night? We could have made great progress," he said innocently. Her eyes could have melted icebergs, but they were full of mischief, not anger.

"Perhaps we will do some of that too, but I meant with our link. If we really do share this link as we seem to, I do not see any reason why we cannot use our power in tandem."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if we can share our power, it could increase the power of my spells, for example."

"Range, power, or duration?"

"All three, at least theoretically."

"Let's try it."

Morrigan nodded. "Agreed. Let me take care of something first. Sarah!" she called, "Your father and I are going to be practicing some dangerous magic on the other side of the hill. Do not come over the top without warning us, alright? And do not throw one of those sticks over either, or else your new friend will end up crispy."

"Okay, mommy!" Sarah called, and carefully threw the next stick as far away from the hill in question as possible. Dog gave Morrigan a meaningful look and barked happily, as if he was trying to reassure them that he would not do something so foolish as run into the area of effect of one of Morrigan's spells. Both he and Aedan had tried that once before, and it had not gone well. The two of them plodded over the soft ground to the other side of the hill that would block them from Sarah's view and isolate their camp from whatever resulted from their experimentation with this new magic they had discovered together. Neither of them was worried about leaving Sarah unsupervised, especially if she was with Dog. A 200 pound Mabari is quite a deterrent to anything that might want to harm a little girl otherwise alone. Besides, they would both sense it instantly if Sarah were in any danger. Morrigan had relied upon this fact for years, and Aedan had been able to sense it as well even before he'd received his proper training from Wynne and the Fade Council or met his daughter.

They started out small. Morrigan tried conjuring up wind, comparing her results with and without attempting to bolster her power with Aedan's help. It took them nearly an hour to make it work, but eventually Morrigan was able to get a balance-threatening gust of wind with only the effort it would normally take her to conjure a serious hair-mussing. It appeared that together their power was more than the sum of the individuals. She decided to try something more serious.

"Warden, would you like to try something more useful, like a fireball?" She was as close to grinning as he'd ever seen her. He could not only _see _her exhilaration; he could also _feel _it.

"How could I say no? Let's do it!" So far his part had been fairly uninvolved. Mostly he just stood there, trying to feel very open and doing his best to tap into whatever Morrigan was feeling. He figured if he could sense what she was feeling, the link must be working, and he concentrated on doing that. As Morrigan wound up her fireball and let it fly, the magical backblast from her spell was staggering (magical forces were not exempted from the whole "equal and opposite" thing, but only those sensitive to magic usually felt it unless there were physical consequences of the spell.) The flight time of a fireball is very short, but in that time he felt her response to the backblast turn almost instantaneously from feral glee to worry to terror at what she'd done. In that instant he gathered from her reaction that the fireball was going to be much, much bigger than she had expected. He was standing a few feet in front of her and his facing was perpendicular to the line of fire, so he was actually going to be closer to the blast than she was. With reflexes betraying a life's effort to have perfect control of his body he launched himself towards her, hoping to tackle her to the ground so that the explosion would pass (mostly) harmlessly over them. He didn't make it. The detonation reached him in mid-air, and he had only time enough to see her eyes widen in surprise (she still hadn't registered on a conscious level what Aedan had instinctively felt from her) as they were thrown by the blast, her off her feet and Aedan through the air since he had no footing to be knocked from.

Morrigan felt Aedan's panic before she'd registered her own surprise, and she managed to get a shield up in the time between the shockwave and the actual heat hit. (About the time between her suddenly very frequent heartbeats.) If she hadn't, they would have both been burned to a crisp, and Aedan might have even been vaporized by the blast. He'd been caught in her fireballs before and gotten away merely singed, but this was nothing like she'd done before. Even from inside the shield, he swore it was at least four times as fierce as usual.

Aedan reached his feet before Morrigan did, and his mind struggled for balance as his body warred between assessing the damage it had taken, blind panic over Morrigan's condition (after all, he'd failed to shield her from the blast as he'd intended,) and his new senses telling him she was fine, if a little startled. It was going to take some getting used to, having such access to each other's mental feed. He helped her up.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes. That was something, was it not?" She was covered in soot, and her hair was plastered to her face by sweat that had not been there ten seconds before. Aedan spent a moment fussing over her, looking for wounds (he even made THAT look calm and efficient, damn him) before she batted his hands away in annoyance. "Really, I am fine."

"Ok." He stepped away and began checking his own body for wounds. He was far too pumped full of adrenalin to register pain. He grimaced as he looked at his right arm, which had been closest to the blast. Large swaths of it were burned black, and large blisters ringed the black bits. The rest of the arm was merely red and tender, like he'd been scalded by nearly boiling water. Now it was Morrigan's turn to fuss. Aedan didn't bat her away. The adrenalin was ebbing, and the pain that he had been shielded from was punching through with a vengeance. He wanted to vomit, actually.

"OW!" he yelled as she carefully touched the wounds. Her manner was brusque (his direct feed told him she was embarrassed) but tender, and her touch soft.

"Sorry. Quit moving and let me fix this for you." She put both her hands on his arm and focused on it. They were still operating in tandem, and the sensation of having his own energy bolster hers and then rush back into his own body to heal the damage they'd just caused a moment earlier was … confusing. Confusing but effective. A moment later the burn was gone, his arm whole. He looked at it in amazement and began shaking it and poking at it in disbelief. It didn't hurt anymore! He looked closer.

"There isn't even a scar!" He was flabbergasted. Healing did not normally work this way. Normally, healing merely stopped the bleeding, might close the wound or heal the bone, but it left either the subject or the caster drained. He felt neither, even though he'd technically been both.

"Good. Why did you not simply heal like you did the last time I saw you get hurt?" She used the question to deflect. Even in front of him, she did not like to display worry. He knew this, and knew her well enough that he didn't need the link to know she felt very bad about nearly killing him in general, but very specifically about having caused him pain. To him, it felt like she might as well have broken out in weepy tears and blubbered over his arm. It was good to know she cared.

"Doesn't work that way, remember? My healing only works if I'm in the middle of combat."

"So if you just happen to be alone and fall down a ravine and break both your legs..?" She began.

"I'm just as screwed as anyone else," he finished. "But if someone happened by moments later and tried to rob me," he added, "I'd be up in about in an instant. Strange, huh?"

"It is." Her eyes were narrowed slightly as she was deep in thought. After a moment she came back to herself, shrugged, and picked up her bag. It crumbled to ash, and everything fell out the bottom. She swore. He chuckled. She gave him a withering glance, and he helped her pick everything back up. They walked back over the hill. By unspoken but mutual agreement, they were done for the day.

As they crested the hill they were again able to hear Sarah's laughter and Dog's happy barks. Judging by the sun, it was about lunch time. Morrigan and Aedan might not have felt drained from their efforts, but they certainly did feel hungry. This time Morrigan cooked, and Aedan went off to play with Sarah and Dog.

"Daddy! Here, you throw the next one!" Sarah handed Aedan a stick that was much too big for her to throw. He wound up dramatically, earning an indignant look from Sarah, and threw it as hard as he could. Dog, not to be outdone by his dramatic windup, took off at a sprint and leapt up to snatch the stick out of the air. He landed with an earthshattering thud and trotted back to them, where he proudly dropped the stick in front of Sarah. She clapped her hands and fed him a piece of Mabari Crunch.

"Sarah, where did you get that?"

"From your pack, Daddy, where else would I get them?"

Aedan blinked in surprise. He had never let his pack out of his sight, and he had not noticed her go anywhere near it. _This really _is_ my daughter_. He tried not to let his surprise show. "Well, you can actually bake them. Would you like me to teach you how? I don't have that many left, and we'll run out soon at the rate you're giving them out." Dog cocked his head, whined, looked at Sarah, and barked matter-of-factly. He was very pleased with the rate at which she was giving the treats out, and he did NOT want the supply to run out. Sarah wrapped her tiny arms around his head (she was able to reach all the way around his neck, barely.)

"Don't worry, Dog, I won't let you run out." Dog licked her, and she fell over again, laughing and trying to wipe the goo off of her face, giggling. Dog saw that she was trying to become clean, and helpfully supplied more liquid until Sarah was rolling around on the ground laughing adorably, upon which time Dog picked the stick back up, dropped it at Sarah's feet, and barked again. Aedan laughed deeply and threw the stick for Dog, since Sarah was in no condition to do much of anything except giggle. It felt good. He helped Sarah up, wiped her face off carefully with his handkerchief and walked away shaking his head. Sarah went back to chasing Dog around the clearing. He had never seen Dog happier. He had spent hardly a moment away from Dog's side since he was a pup, and had done everything with his hound. Dog loved both hunting and war, the mud and the summer grass, and even the snow, as long as there was 'Crunch to be had, but in his heart of hearts, Aedan knew that Dog loved children above all else. He had already been a young man when Dog was born, so he had not been able to provide this experience for Dog himself, and his nephew had been dead for years, though they had played together extensively until the day Howe's treachery ended the boy's life. It was good that Dog got to be happy now that they'd found Morrigan too.


	26. Chapter 25: Link Training

Over the next few weeks they traveled north. For the time being, the Chantry seemed to have given up pursuit, but Morrigan and Aedan did not let their guard down. Morrigan had spells that would warn them if there was a templar within 20 miles, and she used them. Aedan was no longer sleeping in his armor (Morrigan always made doing so inconvenient so he gave up trying,) but even alone in their tent his daggers were never more than inches away. Dog of course was always alert at all times, his sole purpose in the universe to make sure his friends were never surprised by danger. Only Sarah seemed immune to the tension, but she was aware of it, even if she didn't let on to her parents. When she was alone with Dog, which was often, as her parents were spending a lot of time out of sight practicing strange magic that made her tummy feel funny, she would talk to Dog and pretend he could answer. It was clear to her that he understood what she was saying, so it didn't seem at all strange to her that she should pretend to listen to his responses. "Why are Mommy and Daddy so nervous, Dog? I thought the bad men were all dead or gone or something." Dog cocked his head slightly (thoughtfully?) and barked, which was how he responded to almost everything that wasn't a threat, varying only the angle of his ears and the pitch of the bark to indicate whether he was excited, happy, or both.

After practicing for several weeks, Morrigan and Aedan had begun to understand how their link worked on a practical level. Much like walking or getting dressed in the morning, it was difficult to learn from scratch, but once the patterns were engraved into their minds they were able to operate in tandem without really thinking about it unless they tried to do something irregular like practice combat skills. Like any other sense, they could vary their levels of focus depending on their needs. With the link active but with very little attention paid to it it felt most like an extension of their bodies. One of the first tests they'd tried was to turn the link off, close their eyes and touch their noses. Easy to do, no problem. It's easy to touch one's own nose with one's eyes closed. Next, they'd turned the link back on, and tried to touch each other's noses. The first time it worked both of them felt startled at first, but apprehension quickly fell by the wayside as they realized how natural it felt. After a few hours of practice, they could "feel" the space occupied by the other as naturally as their own.

The link was also enabled them to share simple thoughts and emotions. The content of these thoughts was extremely limited, being most similar to a quick stab of emotion or recognition, like the flash of fear Morrigan felt if Aedan mentioned the word abomination. Morrigan's greatest fear was becoming an abomination, and Aedan could feel every aspect of that fear if he mentioned the name just as if it were his own phobia. Likewise, if Aedan was fretting over the legal difficulties his rendezvous with Morrigan was probably causing Alistair and his brother Morrigan would frequently hit him on the shoulder and tell him to stop broadcasting such gloomy and irrelevant concerns. With practice, they were able to perfectly communicate and read emotions from the other much in the same way they would through body language and nonverbal communication, except that they could do it across great distances and without having to see each other. The only other person they'd met so far had left mildly disturbed by the uncomfortable feeling he got from them. He'd picked up on what seemed to be passing between them without them looking at each other, and it had probably scared him.

Once they'd mastered that, they had attempted more difficult applications of the same principles. If they had mutual situational awareness, one should be able to guide the other while blindfolded. At the moment, Morrigan was blindfolded and Aedan was attempting to walk her through a boulder-strewn meadow. Children often played a similar game, calling out directions and laughing as the blindfolded party stumbled about as the navigator attempted to lead them through an obstacle field. They'd started out in much the same way, except that they didn't have to vocally call the directions. This worked well, especially since they weren't children and were not trying to bump each other into things on purpose (Aedan had tried it once for fun, and decided he didn't like how Morrigan could shoot him an icy glare without having to turn around), but it required intense high-level concentration. Gradually, they were attempting to switch from basically just throwing telepathic "lefts" and "rights" at each other to sharing the visual information between them. Morrigan was better at abstract thinking like this, so she spent most of the time blindfolded, and would then attempt to show Aedan how to bend his thought process to do the same. Right now she could traverse the boulder field about as well as if she were basically looking through Aedan's eyes at herself and giving her own directions. Essentially, she was borrowing Aedan's eyes. This was what both of them had been shooting for, and they were very excited that it was working. Still, it had severe limitations. Coordinating one's own movements while looking at one's self from another perspective was extremely disorienting, even for Morrigan. Even if he wasn't her match when it came to abstract concepts, Aedan was extremely good with spatial relations, and could keep up just as well as she could. Still, they knew they could never do something like this in combat. They decided that they would measure true success by the ability to use the vision of one of them to allow the blindfolded party to rebuild their situational awareness. So far, they couldn't do it while doing anything at combat speed, but they were making progress. Aedan was able to latch onto Morrigan's vision and use it to do simple tasks like reassemble his plate mail from a pile of parts on the floor. It was something he could already do blindfolded, though not at full speed. With the link open, he could now do it just as quickly as he could if his eyes were open, and Morrigan was actually able to walk around the camp and tend the fire, as long as she moved slowly. Sarah and Dog were both "helping" by adding impromptu obstacles for them to trip over.

All in all, they were making great progress.

Aedan sat on a stump inspecting his armor by firelight as Morrigan put Sarah to bed. For once, Dog opted to stay up with him instead of going to bed with Sarah, so he wasn't making very much progress on his armor, but he was making great progress towards making up for lost affection for his canine friend. "Good to see you still love your old buddy Aedan after all, Dog." Dog barked quietly in affirmation that yes, he still loved him, and then plopped himself down next to Aedan's leg and promptly fell asleep. Aedan stroked his friend's warm auburn pelt for a few minutes before returning to his work. It was important to inspect his armor regularly, even if he wasn't engaging in swordfights or even strenuous training, because the slightest rips or tears could expose him to mortal danger if he did need the protection. It was easy to fix them when they were small, but nearly impossible when they became large, at least in the field. He grimaced as his practiced fingers found a small imperfection on the otherwise continuous surface of the leather breastplate. He turned it over in his hands. Small, still; able to be repaired. _Damned if that wasn't there when I inspected this thing this morning!_ He dug a patch kit out of a bag on his belt and began sewing it into place carefully.

Over by the tents, Morrigan shook her head and smiled to herself. She'd finished tucking Sarah in several minutes before, but had sat down with her back to Aedan and tried to mimic the movements of his repairwork on a small piece of cloth. Her replica looked horrible, and she was sure it was not a failure on her part to mirror Aedan's work. His textile skills were simply lacking. She got up to go see if she was right, and struggled to contain a small laugh as she saw him jerk his hand away from his project and put his finger in his mouth. _I will not heal that pinprick for you, you should learn not to do that_. She walked over and sat down on the stump next to him. There wasn't really room for both of them, but she didn't ask him to move over. She was comfortable with the closeness.

"'Tis a wonder you have ever lived this long, Warden, if you cannot even properly do a simple patch on your armor," she chided him. Aedan scowled, but didn't answer, couldn't answer, since his finger was in his mouth. He took it out.

"I've lived my whole life and nobody's ever had to patch my leather for me, thank you very much," he grumbled, but offered little resistance when Morrigan gently pried the work from his hands to undo the mess he'd made of it.

"Yes, well, you lived your whole life without ever knowing a good tailor, then."

She didn't say anything for a few minutes as she picked apart the poorly tied knots he'd made, rethreaded the needle, and started over. Starting being the hard part, she was again able to spare enough concentration to converse.

"Honestly, Warden, your stitching is not all that bad, but your knots are terrible. If the knots do not hold, what is the point of bothering?" she asked rhetorically while Aedan sat back and admitted defeat. He was going to emerge on the other side with properly maintained armor, but not much dignity. "There," she said finally, and handed it back to him. She watched him inspect it, feeling his approval as his fingers tested the threads. She didn't know anything about armor, but when she watched him inspect his gear she found she knew the names of all the parts, and could feel how it would hang on her body, even though she had never worn it. Aedan had said he'd felt the same thing when she mixed potions, which could not be accounted for by his knowledge of poison making. The two were related, but very different. Sometimes their knowledge bridged, and they each knew things, at least for a little while, that they normally wouldn't. It made the sex incredible(r).

His inspection finished, Aedan set his armor down next to his swordbelt and put his arm around Morrigan. They sat in silence for a while, saying nothing, but communicating everything as they rocked gently from side to side listening to the sounds of crickets and the crackling of the fire. Occasionally he would brush the hair out of her eyes when the wind decided not to cooperate.

"Where are we going?" he asked, after a while.

"North," she murmured, without thinking. He raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I thought we were going forward," he said with a perfectly straight face. Morrigan nearly choked on her breath as his joke caught her off guard.

"Alright, Warden, I know what you meant. We're heading somewhere that should be safe." Aedan turned to look at her.

"And where is that?" _Would we be safe anywhere?_

"I have some people that would shelter us."

"Really? You? Friends?"

"Shocking, I know," she said, undecided as to whether she was being sarcastic or not. "Yes, I did make a few friends in the past four years. We'll probably go to stay with some of them. They should be willing to hide us." She looked into her Warden's eyes to see what he made of this. Unsurprisingly, he looked as if he already knew. _Is that the link at work, or did he just guess?_

"Both. Neither. Perhaps I just know you?"

She didn't respond, but sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder and ran her fingers gently through his shoulder length hair.

Eventually Dog woke up, shook himself and curled up again outside Sarah's tent. No matter what chaos raged around them, they were determined to have their moments as the circumstances allowed. They sat there for some time, until the fire was all but dead, enjoying the peace that they'd both been denied for so long. As the chill of the night set in, they retired for the few remaining hours before dawn. They collapsed asleep in each other's arms almost instantly, and slept in perfect comfort until morning.


	27. Chapter 26: Where are we going?

As they traveled further beyond the reach of the Chantry forces, Morrigan and Aedan began to relax slightly. Winter was ending, and the melting snow echoed their budding optimism. They had found each other again, despite Morrigan's admitted reluctance, and found that there was still something there after all. Integrating Aedan into her and her daughter's life had felt completely natural, and she could tell that even Sarah, who at the ripe old age of three had convinced her that there was room in the world for an optimist after all, seemed incredibly happy to have him around, even though she had never met him until recently. _Perhaps some things are just embedded in us_, she thought.

Her joint efforts with Aedan to learn to use their bond were going extremely well. They had moved far beyond their initial hopes, and no longer needed to devote specific time to practice it any more than they needed to devote specific time to remember how to please each other in the dark and private silence of the night, though they practiced _that_ quite a bit anyway.

The morning after the last snowfall, Morrigan awoke to find the tent empty, but she did not feel alone. She could feel her Warden nearby, so she lay awake for a few minutes in the relative warmth listening to the morning. It had been a very long time since she had been to do that. She hadn't even realized she missed it, but she had. Eventually, the morning noises of Sarah and Dog forced her from her thoughts and out of her tent. She threw aside the flap and stepped into the cold morning air, her breath fogging and her hands going numb instantly. As if sensing her discomfort, the Warden called over to her without turning around as she walked over to him.

"The fire's lit and water's boiling. Sarah and Dog are out gathering more wood. Or rather, Dog is dragging the wood, and Sarah is 'helping' him."

Morrigan smiled at the thought, and leaned against a nearby tree to watch the him. He was focusing intently on his reflection in the stream as he attempted to shave with one of his daggers. She knew this could only end badly, but she found it amusing to see him try.

"Do you require assistance?" She asked sweetly, barely stifling a giggle she would have cursed herself for even being capable of a few years earlier.

"No," he grunted, "I've got it. Ouch!" he jerked his hand away and grimaced at the blood on the otherwise perfect steel surface of his dagger.

"Warden, it is against my better judgment, but I will help you anyway. Do not kill yourself before I get back." She walked away shaking her head in amusement. The Warden only shrugged helplessly and waited. He hoped she wasn't going to suggest he burn his beard off. Regenerative qualities or not, fire really stung. He really regretted not bringing a proper shaving kit with him when he set out on his second attempt to find his love. She came back a few moments later cradling a brilliant silver object.

"Here," she said, "this should help you, no?"

Aedan looked at it in disbelief. "You were able to hold onto this?" he said in amazement as he carefully took the silver mirror from her.

"Of course. Why would I not have kept it?" She asked the question plainly, but Aedan blinked his eyes in acknowledgement.

"I don't know, I guess I just thought.."

"That I would have what, thrown it out?" He knew it would be pointless to try to lie, bond or not, so he simply nodded slightly. He braced himself for one of her angry moments, but she cut herself off and softened her face. "No, Warden. I did not. I never threw out anything that you gave me. I said some things I thought were true when I left that I now realize I did not mean, but I never stopped loving you." _And that is why I convinced myself I had to leave before you talked me out of it,_ she didn't add, but she suspected he knew it. "This mirror is my most prized possession, so please do not drop it in the river." The Warden grinned that lopsided grin of his and returned to his task. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and brought his dagger up to cut it off, but Morrigan stopped him.

"What's wrong?"

"Do not. Your hair. I think it looks," she struggled for the words, "primal," she finished with a slight blush. "I like it."

The Warden narrowed his eyes myscheviously. "Primal, huh? Alright, I'll keep it long. But this beard has got to go."

Morrigan wrinkled her face in agreement. "Yes, it does."

The Warden began shaving off his stubble. After a few moments of silence, he asked "So where are we going, anyway?"

"Going?"

"Yes. We're clear of the Chantry, at least for now. We're no longer exactly running, but we're still moving, which means you must have a destination in mind."

"I had not thought about it." _But you _have_ thought about it…_

"We're going to the village where Sarah was born, aren't we?" He asked quietly.

She didn't reply for several minutes. "Yes, I suppose we are. I really had not considered it, but I can think of nowhere else I would be taking us. I think we will be safe there."

"Really? Not from the Chantry, of course we will be, but I mean, why there?"

"I have people there that I trust."

"You mentioned that. Are you sure that we can trust them?" He turned around too quickly in order to look at her and cut his face again.

Morrigan ignored the grevious wound and retorted not unkindly, "Of course! I _do _have friends in this world other than you and your group of adventurers, you know. Did you not believe me when I said so?"

_Actually, I didn't_, his guilty face made clear. "Alright. If you have friends there then I was just surprised, is all. I guess I hadn't thought about that possibility, but you're right, it sounds like a good idea."

"I have not been there since the Spring after Sarah was born," she said contemplatively, "but they made it clear if I ever returned I would find welcome there."

"Do they know that you're an apostate?"

Asked by anyone else, she would have been extremely angry at such a question, but of all people, the Warden had earned the right to ask blunt questions of her. Gods knew she asked them of him.

"No, I did not tell them."

"That is not the same thing as them not knowing," he pointed out as he cleaned his blade.

"True," she admitted with a sigh. "I did not flaunt my power, if that is what you are asking, but I suppose especially in my case, sometimes it shows anyway."

He got up and put his arms around her waist loosely. "Yes, well, you had me at 'hello', what with that superior swamp witch arrogance you flaunted the day Alistair and I stumbled into your territory. I knew from day one that there was a reason I was drawn to you."

"Oh," she said, pretending not to know, "why was that?" she asked innocently.

Having played this game with her many times he knew he was walking into a trap, so he did so with a smile. "That if I could ever get close enough to get past _that_ cold exterior, I could be sure you really cared."

She had long ago stopped being mad at him for that, but she had to keep up appearances. She gave him a look that would have melted the icicles on his beard a month earlier, but her heart wasn't in it and she allowed him to pull her in gently for a hug.

"And I do, Warden. I am glad you are so stubborn."

"Me too."

The noisy sounds of a happy child interrupted their moment as Sarah and Dog arrived with more wood.

"Mmm. Shall we go see what your daughter has brought us this time?" she cooed.

"So now she's my daughter, huh?"

"Well, at least I think so…" she teased.

"I'm going, I'm going!"


	28. Chapter 27: Solidarity

Teryn Fergus Cousland arrived in Denerim in the middle of a dark and stormy night. As he stabled his horse he ignored the servants who scurried about with hushed whispers at the arrival of such an important and unexpected guest. He paused only long enough to ensure the stable hand would properly see to the job before entering the palace. He threw aside the massive doors, not caring about the rainwater that was dripping from his cloak all over the royal fur rugs. His reason for coming was too important to worry about little things like that.

The king was waiting for him in the main dining hall. A fire roared in the massive hearth. No food sat upon the heavy and scarred table that took up much of the room. Tonight, only alcohol, and strong stuff at that, would do.

"Are you here why I think you are, Fergus?"

Fergus scowled at the king. "You know damn well I am, Alistair." They shook hands. The two men were friends. Aedan had seen to that. He and the king had spent many nerve-wracking nights in the palace discussing the actions of the younger Cousland noble.

The two men sat, and King Alistair poured the second most powerful noble in Ferelden a drink. "It's started," he said simply. Fergus just nodded and took the bottle from the king, forgoing a glass entirely.

"I know." He took a long swig from the bottle and handed it back to the king. Alistair frowned slightly, swirled the bottle, and took a swig of his own. Fergus coughed slightly, either from the drink or the cold rain he's ridden through, and continued: "I know he warned us, but Andraste's Ashes, I had no idea he'd take things this far."

"I did," replied Alistair. "I never doubted for a second that he'd go all the way with this. He loves her. The Chantry deliberately set a splinter sect loose to kill her. Aedan doesn't mess around when problems threaten his family. He solves them. By any means necessary." Alistair was looking pointedly at Fergus. Both men knew what Aedan had done when he had finally caught up with Arl Rendon Howe during the Blight, but only Alistair had personally witnessed the aftermath of Aedan's revenge for the murder of the entire Cousland family.

"I know that, Alistair, but my god, the Grand Cleric of Ferelden?"

"Yeah…" Alistair trailed off. Neither man said anything for several minutes. The only sounds were the quiet crackling of the fire and the cacophony of their silent thoughts.

"So what are we going to do about this?" Fergus raised an eyebrow at the king. Both of them knew what the answer was. Aedan had made that easy for them too.

"Did you bring it?"

"Of course. Do you have yours?"

Alistair pulled a small wooden box from his pocket, just long enough to contain a scroll. Fergus pulled out an identical box.

"He told me that these were so carefully prepared that they would be accepted even if presented by the Emperor of Orlais in the middle of a war."

"You have to hand it to your brother, Fergus, he really doesn't do anything halfway. Leliana doesn't talk much about what she and Aedan did for the year or so before he left to go find Morrigan again, but she did tell me that he essentially shook down every assassins guild in Antiva before they left. Told them how the Crows and he had a good relationship built on understanding, and that he intended to clear up any similar misunderstandings with the other guilds beforehand. You know. So there wouldn't be trouble."

"Only my brother could say that to a band of Antivan assassins and have the assassins be the ones to walk away from the meeting scared."

"Yeah, but she said it was even crazier than that. To prove his point, he put a bounty on his own head and dared them to come after him. Some did. He gave their heads back a month later when he collected his money, unclaimed. Worked brilliantly, that did, no assassin's guild this side of Anderfels will even let a man walk out of their territory after suggesting that they want to put a price on his or Morrigan's head."

Fergus just shook his head. His brother was braver than him. Or crazier. Probably both.

"If we're going to do this, let's do this." He opened his box and withdrew the scroll. It was very short:

"To Whom it May Conern: I hereby relinquish all titles and privileges due to me as a noble of Ferelden. I am a free man with no further claim on any property or holdings belonging to my family. I declare myself a renegade, not subject to any laws, jurisdictions, or judgments made against me by the lawful authority of the Crown. I do this irrevocably and of my own free will. Maker save the King." It was signed "Aedan Cousland, Heir to the Teyrn of Highever."

Also in the box was a smaller note: "Please, Fergus. Just do it. I know how much trouble this will cause you. I'm not going to stop."

Alistair had an identical scroll, with a similar note: "Alistair, my old friend, you told me you were going to back me all the way. Make it easy on yourself. You don't have to go through all of this for me. I'll be fine. ~A"

The two men compared their scrolls, and made sure they were identical. "Are you absolutely sure about this Alistair? There's no going back. This is my brother, and your best friend we're talking about."

"I've thought this through, Fergus. Go get the Chantry witness." Alistair waited, pursing his lips in nervous habit. He had done a lot of that over the past few years since he succeeded the throne. Fergus returned momentarily with a duly appointed representative of the Chantry. She was a snide woman, very smug, and was lording her impending victory over the two men. She was already gloating double that they happened to be the two most powerful nobles in Ferelden.

"Gentlemen, I assume you have summoned me here because you have seen reason, and to atone for the dreadful and unacceptable acts of the younger Lord Cousland?"

"Read the damn scrolls yourself, you witch," muttered Fergus, as he shoved both scrolls at her, and put his hands back on his sword belt. The woman's eyes twitched in amusement, and she could not hide her smile as she read the words.

"Well, this _is_ an interesting development, isn't it?"

"I wanted you to witness this." Alistair held out his hand, and the woman placed them into his waiting palm.

"I brought a pen," she said helpfully.

"I don't need it," replied the king, and he threw the scrolls into the fire. The woman's face went white. Fergus only smiled.

Alistair did not wait for the woman to recover. He put his fists on the table and leaned towards the woman over the table. "Tell the new Grand Cleric that she should think twice about sending another secret brigade of soldiers to apprehend my friends. If you try anything like that ever again, I will expel the entire Chantry from all of Ferelden. Do you hear me!" He yelled.

The woman tried to protest, "But, that's unacceptable! We—"

Alistair cut her off. "That's, 'Yes, _Sire_, whatever you say, _Sire_,'" he said very softly, "Do you understand me? Do not make me tell you this again. If a single hair on that child's head is hurt, Aedan will skin you alive and dangle it from my battlements. And I'll let him." The king let that sink in for a moment. Fergus was impressed. Alistair had learned a lot about how to intimidate beuracrats since assuming the throne. "Aedan, Morrigan, and their child are off limits."

The Chantry woman did not know what to say, so she bowed and left, before her ears heard more blasphemy.

"There will be hell to pay for this, you know," said Fergus, who was sitting half on the table.

"I don't care!" Alistair threw up his hands. "I never had a brother. Well, not really, anyway. Aedan's friendship has meant more to me than any I've ever known. He had my back, always. And I'm sure as hell not turning mine on him now. End of story."

"You're the king," Fergus said. He took one last sip before getting up and extending his hand. "Thank you, Alistair," he said softly. Alistair didn't comment on the wetness of Fergus's eyes. Neither man had to explain anything to the other; they understood perfectly: Aedan and Morrigan would be safe.


	29. Chapter 28: I Pay It Gladly

Aedan and Alistair galloped towards the enemy palisades. Arrows rained down around them, and it seemed to the men riding with them that they did not care. More likely they just didn't notice. The ground was terrible, and horsemanship was not the art of nobles it was in Orlais. They were having trouble merely keeping their seats, let alone maintaining the formation. They both knew that it was a bad idea to be so close to each other on the battlefield, especially considering the nature of the war they were fighting, but they had ridden into battle side by side for the better part of a decade now and were not about to change all of that in the interest of safety.

It had all begun when King Alistair had backed Aedan against the Chantry. Alistair threatened that if they so much as thought about going after Aedan he would forcibly eject them from the kingdom. The Chantry took this as their opportunity to make a play for more formal power over the nation of Ferelden. Once the Chantry had openly rebelled against the king, religious zealots sprung up out of the woodwork to join in the newest Exalted March.

Ostensibly, the Chantry was declaring itself the victim and painting King Alistair as a mad tyrant for harboring Aedan, who they had officially excommunicated from the church and branded a traitor for the unprovoked assassination of the Grand Diviner. Of course, they didn't advertise that it was actually all about the young girl, Sarah Cousland, who was rumored among the high ranking members of the church to be carrying the soul of an Old God. They also didn't like to let it be known that the Grand Diviner had conducted a three year shadow campaign of violence against Aedan's family which culminated in the secret deployment of an entire battalion of Templar soldiers sent to capture or kill Morrigan and her daughter before Aedan could locate and reinforce them. They failed to beat him to her. When most of the battalion failed to come home, the dead were retroactively reassigned to far away units known to be in constant contact with the enemy and too busy to keep good records due to all the casualties. Or that Aedan had only acted against the Chantry directly after Templar soldiers adopted a scorched earth policy towards any village that had ever harbored them. All this was swept under the bear skin rug as they tried to rally the citizens of Ferelden against Aedan Cousland and the king who protected him.

It only half worked. Most people in Ferelden loved the king, and had a soft spot for Aedan, who had been hailed as the Hero of Ferelden for his role during the Blight, and for ending the previous civil war by convincing the Landsmeet to recognize Alistair as the rightful king. Most were unwilling to discard that loyalty despite the insistence of the Ferelden Chantry. Others had shorter memories, stronger religious convictions, or saw an opportunity. The fact that so many of these "religious zealots" came from Arlings that had sided with Loghain during the Blight may have been only a coincidence. Maybe.

In the end it didn't really matter. Ferelden was in full-scale civil war, and it had been a bitter war so far. It was not like the Blight, when everyone involved made a conscious effort to limit the scale of the battles so as to not piss away the strength of Ferelden before the true battle had even been joined. No, now they were playing for all the marbles, and the casualty reports on both sides showed it.

"You know, this seemed like it was a lot closer when you gave the order to charge," noted the king to his friend as the distance closed all too slowly.

His companion only grunted. Like most Ferelden nobles, Aedan was not a very good horseman. He was struggling just to keep himself pointed in the right direction. As they got closer, the accuracy of the arrows falling around them improved, and they began to lose men. Aedan did his best to ignore the screams. Some people aid that it was supposed to get easier with time. Aedan personally thought the people who said so had never felt what it was like to lose subordinates (and comrades) in battle. He gritted his teeth and just prayed it wouldn't be him or Alistair that caught an arrow in the chest over the next quarter mile. If they could just get through the hastily-erected ramparts, they would be able to crush this rebellion, and finally know peace.

Unfortunately, the Chantry did not intend to go down without a fight. Though primarily equipped with special magic to deal with mages, the ever-resourceful Church of Andraste had acquired a great deal of ballistas over the course of the war, and they had saved some for this final stand against the Loyalist army. The quiet clacking of the arrows falling to ground was being replaced by the much louder thuds of the larger bolts. As Aedan watched, a pair of bolts arced up from the emplacements and seemed to hang delicately in the air before tipping back over and crashing back to earth. One struck a nearby boulder and shattered into a thousand pieces, sending splinters fling through the air. It was close enough that he felt some of them bounce off of the plate mail that Alistair had talked him into wearing. The other bolt was luckier, and knocked the man on the other side of Alistair from his horse and impaled him in the ground.

They charged on.

They were close now. Aedan almost began to hope that they might complete their charge before a second volley of ballista fire had a chance to fire. He could make out the heraldry on the tabards of the soldiers. _We'll make it! _He almost believed it. Even a good crew took time to reload. Personally, Aedan would have used them much sooner in the battle. They had the range. _Perhaps they were hoping for shock value to break the charge? _Before he could complete the thought, a single bolt took to the skies. _At least we only had the misfortune to charge against _one_ competent artillery crew_. His musings were cut short as his mind calculated the trajectory. He felt all of his muscles tense before his brain told him what was wrong. The bolt was arced perfectly to hit the king square in the chest.

Alistair was a brave man and one of the most skilled warriors in all of Ferelden, but he hated every single battle he participated in. If he wasn't worrying about getting a sword stuck through him, he was worried about catching an arrow in the knee (trololol). If he wasn't worried about that, he was worrying it was going to happen to one of his friends. He was looking forward to this war being over.

Being a better rider than Aedan, Alistair was able to spare a glance to his right to see how his friend was handling himself. He was puzzled by the look of panic on his friend's face. He'd never seen Aedan look so scared before. _Well, Wynne told me she did once, but that was because he thought that Morrigan was—_Alistair thought as he followed Aedan's gaze. Then he saw what his friend saw: a ballista bolt, headed right for him. Alistair was a good rider, but even a good rider can't make himself be in a completely different place.

Before Alistair could react to his impending death, he saw his friend's pupils suddenly dilate, and his movements accelerated. He was only a few feet away. He leapt from his horse, covering the short distance that might as well have been a mile to anyone else. Alistair was glad of that, but he didn't understand what Aedan thought he was doing. Even he couldn't parry a ballista bolt, surely? To the king's horror, he realized his friend's plan only after he saw and heard the bolt strike his friend squarely in the heart, come out the other side, and redirect his jump straight backwards and then into the ground. Aedan landed on his head with a sickening snap that Alistair desperately hoped was the exposed shaft of the bolt and not his friend's neck. Due to the decreased distance there was enough power left in the bolt that the momentum bowled Aedan clean over, snapping off one end of it as he rolled backward head over heels, before coming to rest flat on his back. Alistair jumped from his horse and dove to cover behind the boulder closest to his friend. His horse reared, and then whinnied in pain as a flurry of arrows struck it, and it too fell to the ground.

Alistair pushed his helmet back up so that he could see and called out to his friend: "Aedan! Are you alright?" But he didn't need the silence of Aedan's lack of reply to tell him what he already knew. Aedan was dead. He'd known it the instant he realized what had happened. He knew it was pointless, but he risked raising his head to get a look anyway. It was as bad as he had feared, and worse: Aedan's head was sitting at a terrifying angle. He'd been close enough that he'd seen his dull lifeless eyes of his friend even as he flew through the air, long before the landing which had obviously snapped his neck.

He didn't hear the cries of the rest of the cavalry which should have been reaching the enemy wall by now. It looked like the charge had been driven back. _Or simply killed outright_. The thought made him sick. Alistair didn't know what to do. Ten years of conflict, and despite all of it, he was paralyzed. If the Chantry sent out a counter charge, he would probably be captured or killed. And considering that the enemy had probably noticed the king of Ferelden and his best general fall, it was likely that they would send one. "I'm sorry, Aedan," he whispered quietly. He sat there behind his boulder, contemplating his end.

Back on a hill overlooking the battlefield safely out of range of even the best artillery or magic, Sarah Cousland helped "Great Aunt Wynne" treat the wounded. Nearby, her mother, Morrigan, was hastily dressing an arrow wound on a different soldier. Sarah could tell that her mother wished she was on the battlefield instead, but she hadn't argued when Aedan had begged her to stay behind the lines. He didn't say "If I don't come back…", but he didn't have to. His eyes had said it for him. Her mother had replied only "I'll stay with Sarah. A battlefield is no place for her, and I don't want to leave her alone under the circumstances. _Of course, I've been on a battlefield over a dozen times where the only object on the field either side cared about was me, and I wouldn't be alone, I'd be with Dog_, thought Sarah. Adults did strange things to cover what they were really feeling. Which was especially pointless in the case of her parents, who she knew perfectly well could read each other's emotions as easily as they could breathe. Sarah kept winding the bandage around the soldier she was treating.

"There," Wynne said to the soldier, "head on outside and get some rest. It will be at least a week before you can fight again, and perhaps it will all be over by then." The man gritted his teeth stoically and nodded as he got up and left. _One way or another, all of this is going to be decided today_. Wynne hated the suspense and lack of knowing that came from being behind the lines almost as much as Morrigan did.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, Wynne nearly jumped when Sarah gasped, dropping her bandage to stare with wide eyes as if looking at something far off and horrible. Her mouth was open in a silent O. Morrigan was screaming, and had collapsed to her knees clutching her left breast. As Wynne ran to her, she realized it wasn't her breast she was clutching; it was her heart. Wynne had heard her friends yell in agony many times before over the course of her long life, but she had never heard such inhuman agony. Silent tears rolled down Morrigan's face as she clutched her heart so hard her nails were probably drawing blood even through her clothing. Wynne knelt down next to her and put her hand on Morrigan's shoulder.

"Morrigan! What's wrong?"

Morrigan looked at her, but instead of responding, she began transforming into a raven. Wynne knew to leave well enough alone, and stepped back as Morrigan disappeared through a hole in the center of the tent roof with only the sound of flapping wings betraying the fact that she had ever been there. Wynne, confused, but with the first frown of a theory on her lips, went back to see how Sarah was doing. She had regained a little of her composure, but still looked very shaken.

"Wynne! What…what was that?" she asked fearfully. Wynne narrowed her eyes. She had a pretty good idea what had happened. She held her arms out to the girl, who had seen so much conflict and death and pain but was still only eight years old.

"Shhh. There there, dear. Everything will be alright, dear," she said as she wrapped her arms around the girl.

_Why do adults _always_ say that when it isn't true!_ Sarah threw Wynne's arms off and rushed the flap of the tent to see what was going on outside.

Wynne sighed sadly. She knew what Sarah was thinking, and she hated herself for it. Of all people, she should have known that Sarah Cousland would want to take action, not be comforted by false promises. Wynne began the process of accessing the Fade. Normally vast sums of lyrium would be required for what she was about to do, but Wynne had a special connection with the Fade. It was only by the grace of a particular Fade spirit that Wynne even drew breath. It was that spirit she was communicating with right now. She closed her eyes, and then opened them in the Fade.

Morrigan streaked through the sky as fast as her wings could carry her. She ignored the rough winds that ruffled her feathers as she searched the battlefield with her now keen eyes for any sign of Aedan. She knew the general plan had called for a diversion by the bulk of the Loyalist forces while a small cavalry unit headed by Aedan and Alistair made a surprise charge against the (hopefully) mostly unguarded Chantry garrison fortifications. She did not see a cavalry force anywhere. All she saw was the bodies of knights and horses strewn about like a deadly path terminating less than two hundred yards from the walls. It was there that she spotted the king's heraldry, lying in a field of boulders.

She fought the wind as she banked for a slow circle, feeling like her feathers were going to be torn off from its force. She thought she saw the Warden next to the king, lying on his back, so she decided to make one more lower pass before landing. As she came around, her heart sank as she realized that he was not lying there taking cover. He was just lying there. In the shock of it, she forgot to fly in an evasive pattern now that she was low enough to be in range of the remaining enemy archers. Having been warned about Morrigan's abilities, they were instructed to shoot at any birds taking an unnatural interest in events on the ground. One of them got lucky, and Morrigan tumbled out of the sky as an arrow pierced her wing, crippling it.

Knowing she was not going to be able to recover, she changed back into human form and began casting a spell to cushion her fall, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood at the pain in her arm. She landed softly next to Alistair, who was just sitting there, nearly catatonic. Morrigan looked at the body of the man she loved and nearly threw up. After ten years of loving him, and trying to convince herself to listen to him when he said the risks were worth it, she realized she'd been fearing this very moment that entire time.

"That bolt should have hit me," Alistair said weekly, without the courage to look Morrigan in the eye.

"What?" She was sure she hadn't quite heard him.

"He dove in front of me. He took the bolt instead of me."

Morrigan took another look at Aedan's lifeless body before turning to face Alistair. Hot tears streaked her face. "I will kill you for this, Alistair." She knew he believed her.

"I deserve it. I wish he hadn't done it," he said miserably. Morrigan struggled to remind herself that Alistair loved him every bit as much as she did. After ten years of seeing their friendship, she knew that Alistair meant it. She closed her eyes and forced back the tears that would never stop flowing, at least on the inside. The risks were just as high as she had feared. She would never recover from this. She felt like her very soul had been shattered. _I did not really mean what I said to Alistair._ _It would not be what he would have wanted. And besides, it would not bring him back. Better to take revenge on the men who killed him than the man he died to protect._

"Right, well we're pinned down here, aren't we?" Alistair asked rhetorically as a continuous hail of arrows and an occasional ballista bolt rained down around them, presumably in response to the spotters seeing Morrigan land in the area.

"Yes. Did you have a reserve force? Your charge did not work," she added unhelpfully. _Damn decorum, I cannot spare the effort right now_.

"There will be. We have some good officers, they will rally a second wave. Now that you're here we can probably hold off any counterattack long enough for them to get here. Can you reach Aedan's body?"

Morrigan looked at the large patch of intervening, open ground between her and his body, which was rapidly filling with arrow shafts. "No," she said simply.

"Looks like we wait then."

"I will see the bodies of the men in that stronghold burn to ash before the sun sets tonight," Morrigan said through her agony. Alistair could see her clenched jaw muscles working as she fought back the bitterness in her words that threatened to choke them.

"We'll get them. Don't worry." Privately, he wasn't as sure as her.

Back in the Fade, Wynne was bargaining with the Fade council for Aedan's life. So far the spirits had flatly refused to give it up. Wynne had only one more card to play. 

"Would you accept a trade, then?"

"What have you left to trade with, Mage?" mocked the spirit council, "You don't even have your own life to bargain with anymore. You live purely at our pleasure."

"Then it should please you to correct such an unnatural arrangement and accept my bargain," she replied. She knew they could do it. She didn't know if they _would_ do it. And even if they did, it was a high price to pay.

A timid spirit stepped forward and began to address the council. Its voice was uncertain at first, but it gained confidence as it continued to speak. "My friends, have we all forgotten the decision that was made here seven years ago? When we agreed that we should rescue Aedan Cousland from the prison he built with his own mind in order to facilitate the most true and unconditional love we had ever seen? How can we deny this Mage her request, if she is willing to sacrifice so much to save the life we already deemed worth saving?"

"Be silent, Quagroth," ordered one of the council members, not unkindly. "We will deliberate." With that the scenery disappeared, leaving Wynne alone on a windswept plane that continued forever in all directions, with only Quagroth for company. They stood there, silently, for what felt like an eternity. Wynne sighed as the eternal wind of the Fade swept through her old, gray hair.

"Are you sure this would even be the right thing? He died a good death. An honorable one. He died in battle defending those he loved. I believe he would be able to find peace."

"I don't doubt that, Quagroth. He would be satisfied with a death such as this one. But his work is not done. His daughter is not yet safe. His mate will never recover from the blow she has suffered."

"She does truly care for him. I meant what I said in there. We have never seen a truer love in all of time."

Wynne began to walk, and Quagroth floated alongside her. She knew she could walk for a century without worrying about being absent when the council reconvened. In the distance, she could make out the cliffs that Aedan had constructed for himself so many years ago when he was lost.

"Quagroth, why are we here?" She asked, suddenly realizing where they were.

"This is the land the Warden built for himself. We saw no need to eradicate it. He will be happy here. This time it won't be a prison but an eternal hunting ground."

"I don't think that's what would make him happy."

"And what would?"

"Her."

Neither said anything for quite some time.

"Wynne, would you really be willing to go through with what you suggest?"

"I assume that you have watched events surrounding the Warden. You should not have to ask." _I pay it gladly_, she thought sadly.

"I know. Council members, my decision is made," said Quagroth solemnly.

"What?!" Said Wynne, shocked. "What do you mean, _your_ decision?"

"I'm head of the council now." He didn't elaborate.

As the trappings of the council chamber reappeared around them, the echoing voices of the spirits began to speak: "We require a link, Mage. His path has been severed. To send him back, we require someone who can show him the way."

"I know of someone," said Wynne, "grant me the power to bring her to you."

"Done. You have precious little time, Mage."

"I will need little of it." Wynne

Sarah had seen her mother fly out over the battlefield, but could barely make out her form now. She ran to the nearest sentry.

"Soldier! May I borrow your spyglass?"

Even if he had not recognized her as the Cousland heir, no one could resist when Sarah asked for anything. She was too adorable a little girl for that. The guard handed her the bronze tube with a smile, and lifted her onto his shoulders so that she could see.

"Thank you sir," she said as she opened it and began scanning the sky for her mother. She found the raven just as an archer did, and she focused just too late to see the arrow fly straight through her mother's wing. "NO!" she screamed, and began kicking. The guard, not knowing what she had just seen, helped her down. She shoved the spyglass back into his hands as she took off running. She didn't know where. Dog followed her, knowing instinctively that she was upset and that he needed to stay with her. She hid under the ramp onto the battlements and rocked back and forth as she cried into Dog's fur. After what felt like an eternity, a gentle voice broke her reverie.

"Sarah. I need your help." It was Wynne. She looked up at her, and tried to hide her tears. "There's no need to hide your tears, child. Everything will be alright. I promise. For real, this time," she added, before Sarah could comment. She held out her hand to Sarah, who stood and took it.

"Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously, knowing intuitively that they were not about to go for a walk.

"Where we can make a difference." Wynne closed her eyes again, and brought them back to the fade. This normally would have been impossible, but Sarah had certain gifts when it came to the Fade. She would learn about those in the years to come. Wynne wished only that she would be around to help teach her about them. _Oh well. Her parents will do fine without me._

As the Loyalist camp faded from view, Sarah looked around in wonder. This was the first time she had ever come to the Fade while conscious. "Where are we?" she asked in wonder.

"This is the Fade, Sarah. Some day you will be able to come here on your own, when you're older."

"Have you brought her?" Boomed the voices of the council.

"I have."

"Very well. Saraah Cousland, step forward!" the voice commanded.

"Who the hell says!" she yelled at the top of her little lungs. Wynne's heart broke with love for the spunky little girl. Alone of all the people she had met, Sarah never backed down from anyone, for any reason.

"How dare you!" yelled one of the council members. The others quieted him.

"Sarah, we are here to give your father another second chance. We will use you to guide him back. Are you strong enough to show him the way?"

"Are you calling me a weakling?" she said, not having any idea what he was talking about, but wanting to sound brave.

"Very well. It might behoove you to temper that tongue, child. It will get you into trouble someday."

"That's what my mother keeps telling me," she murmured to nobody in particular.

"Wynne, are you prepared?"

"I am."

"Very well. It is done."

As Wynne's vision began to go dark, she reflected briefly on her long life, and found she had no regrets. With her last breath, she made her peace. This was the right decision. She had already seen and done far more than she deserved to. It would be nice to rest.

_I pay it gladly…_

Sarah woke up again under the battlements with Dog, exactly where she had left. She looked around, and saw Wynne lying on the ground. She ran over to her. Wynne wasn't breathing.

"Wynne! Wynne!" She was panicked now, she had no idea what to do. The guards would later tell her mother that she stayed over the body, refusing to move, until she got back.

Aedan was slightly confused. For a few moments, he had been back in the land he had been trapped in all those years ago, except this time it wasn't horrible. It had been peaceful. He had been content. But then something had come. He couldn't tell what, but he knew he needed to follow it. It had led him here, back to a land of pain and cold. As he struggled to command his limbs, he realized that he was cold because he was covered in a sticky red substance. _Blood!_ He realized with a shock. _My blood…_

"Well, we're not dead yet," Alistair said glumly for about the seventh time. Morrigan had long stopped listening. Other than blasting the occasional Chantry soldier brave or stupid enough to poke his head above the enemy battlements, there hadn't been much to do. Morrigan felt very strange. She felt like she was forgetting something, or was on the verge of remembering something important. Then she heard a groaning from behind her. It was the Warden. He was sitting up!

"What the fuck happened to me?" he asked, confused. He tried to stand, and only Morrigan's quick shielding spell prevented him from absorbing half a dozen arrows. Alistair took advantage of this brief period of safety to sprint across the small gap and drag Aedan over to their rock.

"I think I was dead…"

Morrigan was looking at him in amazement. _Is it true? How can it possibly be true?_ And yet, she continued to hope. She gently stroked his cheek. Yes, it was real. And the pain in her arm told her she was not dreaming. She threw her good arm around his neck and melted into him, ignoring the taste of his blood on his lips. He kissed her back with as much effort as he could muster, which wasn't much, but appeared to be increasing by the minute. When they broke for air, they pressed their foreheads together and smiled at each other, and then began to laugh.

"I hate to interrupt you two, but we've got reinforcements," Alistair said almost gratefully. He wished he and his wife loved each other like that.

The pair of them looked up at the formation of friendly troops that had finally mustered, but they did not really care. They were dead to everything except each other. They had been given their second second chance.

Once the reinforcements joined up with them, they marched forward like an unstoppable tide and took the weak fortress with few casualties on either side. They surrendered nearly without a fight, when they saw the Warden standing there with Morrigan in his arms. Some bowed down and whispered it was a miracle, much to the chagrine of the Chantry officials. They forbid their men to speak of it, but they knew the rumor would spread. Even if the entire organization hadn't just been captured, news of the miracle would have doomed their rebellion to failure. The war quickly wound down, and things went back to normal, for a time. Aedan and Morrigan found Sarah weeping over Wynne's body. Sarah told them what had happened. They were sad, but they understood what had happened, and they were grateful.


	30. Introduction, Orientation, and Timeline

Introduction, Orientation, and Timeline

I originally intended to write this as several "snapshots" of the lives of Morrigan and the Warden. I don't yet have enough experience as a writer to tie everything together as a single continuous narrative, so I deliberately didn't attempt to, and went for a more episodic format. As time went on I was able to do a better job of filling in the gaps, so some sections follow immediately, and at other times a great deal of time passes. To help make this more clear to readers, I'm going to start building a timeline of what exactly is going on. It isn't strictly necessary to read it this timeline, especially if one is extremely familiar with the game and the lore, but it may still be helpful, particularly for those whose memory is a little bit faded (no pun intended.)

Since I wrote the bulk of this over two years ago, and it was largely episodic (and thus completely disorganized on my hard drive) I would appreciate it if anyone who has a firmer grasp on the order of things would let me know if I make any truly glaring errors, such as if I'd tried to have Leliana appear before the party had made it to Lothering or something of that nature.

As I've said, there is quite a bit of material that I am editing, and I will be posting all of it as I make more progress on the editing. I wish I had been able to bring myself to do this a year ago, as I worry that some of the interest in Dragon Age fan fiction may have waned somewhat. If you like what you read, please, please let me know, and recommend it to someone else. I've never had a project that was more personal to me than this one.

**Prologue**: This takes place the day Morrigan leaves. In my version of events, she left the morning after Alistair's coronation.

**Chapter 1: Morrigan Goes Off Alone:** This takes place shortly after the party left Lothering. They set out for the Brecilian Forest.

**Chapter 2: Young Love: **This takes place shortly after the party arrives in the Brecilian Forest. Aedan helps a young hunter win over the woman he loves.

**Chapter 3: Are You Trying to Impress Me?:** Takes place moments after Chapter 2 ends.

**Chapter 4: Redcliffe:** Takes place in Redcliffe, shortly before defending it from the army of the undead. Some time had passed between Chapters 3 and 4. From the Brecilian Forest the party went to the Circle Tower and met Wynne. More importantly, Aedan became closer with Morrigan due to the whole incident with Flemeth. In addition to that, Aedan had a massive adventure in the Fade while saving his companions from the Demon. That time spent in the Fade had a significant effect on the Warden, as you will soon see.

**Chapter 5: Fade Affinity:** This takes place some undisclosed amount of time after Chapter 4. The Warden definitely loves Morrigan, and has stopped bothering to worry about it. The effects of his extended adventure in the Fade begin to manifest.

**Chapter 6: That Boy Loves You, Morrigan:** This takes place later the same day as Chapter 5. More insight into what's going on with Morrigan and the Warden. Wynne does not approve. Morrigan does not understand.

**Chapter 7: Your Opinion of Love:** This takes place a week or two after Chapter 6. Morrigan makes a desperate attempt to break things off with the Warden. Things don't go as planned. I used some dialogue from the game at critical moments because I didn't see any reason not to, but this time we have some insight into what Morrigan was going through at that moment.

**Chapter 8: The Next Morning:** The following morning. Morrigan continues to have doubts about whether she is making the right decision. Also, Leliana loses a bet to Alistair.

**Chapter 9: Is the Warden Seducible?: **This chapter was originally supposed to have taken place just after Chapter 4 (Redcliffe). I've sort of left it vague, because it doesn't quite fit into a coherent timeline. This chapter was one of the earliest I'd written, and it introduces a continuity error regarding when Morrigan and the Warden tell each other they love each other. This chapter doesn't quite make sense after the events of Chapters 5 through 8. I decided to just leave it, and acknowledge it so that people realize I'm aware of it. Most of the chapter still works if the continuity error is ignored.

**Chapter 10: It's Just Too Big For Me: **This takes place shortly after the Landsmeet. Alistair is now the king, and they are preparing to march to Redcliffe to do battle with the Archdemon there. The group has now been together for nearly a year, and their attitudes towards each other have definitely evolved from where they started. Morrigan shows her tender side.

**Chapter 11: A Dark Promise: **This is when Morrigan performs her ritual with the Warden. By necessity, there is a lot of in-game dialogue in this one. The conversation that takes place may get changed later. As I edited this, I learned that the wonderfully written and touching conversation they had had taken place only in my head and had never been written down. I may change it later. If I do, I'll make a note here.

**Chapter 12: The First Night:** This takes place the night after Morrigan left. Chronologically, this takes place immediately after the Prologue.

**Chapter 13: What Will You Do Now?:** Takes place roughly two weeks after Chapter 12. Aedan decides he has to break his promise to Morrigan and go after her. Contrary to his fears, his friends are very supportive.

**Chapter 14: Snow Camp:** Takes place roughly six months after Chapter 13. Aedan has been searching for Morrigan with very little success, and it is weighing heavily on him.

**Chapter 15:** **A Winter Birth**: Takes place about two months after Chapter 14. Morrigan is about to give birth, and she finds solace in the kindness of a stranger. Elsewhere, Aedan is in the middle of a war.

**Chapter 16: Bloodlust and Deathwish**:This is a section from what I called the "Afterblight." Part of the reason I started this project was because I didn't know (read: couldn't wait) if/how Bioware intended to give closure to the Morrigan issue, so that meant I didn't know what direction the Bioware canon would go. I eventually decided to not worry about that, and I am ignoring any contradictions my writing has with the official canon.

Instead of things going quite the way they did in Awakening, I opted for a nearly full on blight. Aedan was called back to fight in the second war, which was far more strung out and bloody than the blight, as the blight in Origins was pretty much short-circuited before it could turn into a full war. That, combined with the loss of Morrigan, has some significant effects on Aedan as he slips deeper and deeper into a depression, and begins to seek out death on the battlefield.

**Chapter 17: Stuck in the Fade:** Takes place an indeterminate amount of time after Chapter 16. The Afterblight is over. Aedan did not find the death he sought on the battlefield, largely due to Alistair relieving him of command and ordering him off the field. Aedan bitterly resented this, but he did as he was told. He took to locking himself in his tower, and eventually he let himself get stuck in the fade. The chapter opens with Wynne and Alistair trying to figure out what to do about it.

**Chapter 18: Lost in the Fade:** Takes place during Aedan's fade coma. Wynne realizes she can't help him but can't give up trying, and Aedan careens aimlessly through the fade.

**Chapter 19: The Witch Learns His Fate: **Takes place during Aedan's fade coma. Morrigan realizes that Aedan is stuck in the fade, and that it is probably her fault.

**Chapter 20: Quagroth of the Fade:** Again takes place during Aedan's fade coma. Demons are not the only creatures that inhabit the fade, and a benevolent spirit is willing to rock the political boat to try to learn more about the mysterious being who is causing so much destruction in the fade.

**Chapter 21: Chantry Camp: **Takes place roughly four years after Morrigan originally left. Aedan is out of his fade coma and back on the trail of Morrigan. Unfortunately, so is the Chantry. Aedan infiltrates a Chantry encampment to see what they know.

In the future I fully intend to better detail how exactly Aedan got himself out of his fade coma. Right now it's pretty much just "I escaped somehow" and that does not do it justice.

**Chapter 22: A Welcome Rescue:** Takes place the following day. Morrigan gets a welcome rescue from the Chantry forces closing in on her.

**Chapter 23: A Living Messenger is Best:** Takes place moments later. At long last, Morrigan and Aedan are reunited, but they don't get much time to talk. Also, their daughter is adorable.

**Chapter 24: Together Again at Last: **At long last, Morrigan and Aedan get a chance to really talk. There is quite a bit to talk about.

**Chapter 25: Link Training:** Now that they are no longer strictly on the run from the Chantry, there is time for the Witch and the Warden to properly explore their newly developed fadelink powers.

**Chapter 26: Where are we going?:** Morrigan and Aedan briefly discuss where they are going.

**Chapter 27: Solidarity:** The missing background here is that after Morrigan and Aedan reunite, the Chantry makes it their mission to kill them both. "Officially" they are being left alone, but as the "splinter" group led by the commander from Chapters 21 through 23 makes life harder and harder for them, it becomes quite clear that his actions are sanctioned at the highest levels of the Ferelden Chantry. Aedan does what he does best, and makes pursuing his family dangerous for the Chantry as a whole.

This chapter begins as Teryn Fergus arrives in Denerim to meet with King Alistair to discuss the issue of the Warden, as things have gotten ugly enough that they will have to make a decision. I debated for a long time whether I should use this title for the chapter, as the text is deliberately ambiguous until the end whether Fergus and Alistair will back Aedan or the Chantry, but I decided that I like the word so much that I'll use it anyway.

How long after Chapter 26 this occurs is left deliberately ambiguous to give myself more narrative wiggle room for future additions, but it is most likely somewhere between six months and three years.

**Chapter 28: I Pay It Gladly: **As noted in the description for the previous chapter, a number of years have passed. After the Chantry continued to go after Aedan and Morrigan, Aedan waged a very public personal war against the Chantry leadership, which led to the events of the previous chapter. Once King Alistair threw in with Aedan against the Chantry, a full civil war erupted. This chapter deals with the final battle of that war. I won't give away who, but there are deaths.

This chapter mostly concludes the timeline of my story. Emotionally, my task is complete, and creatively, I prefer to focus my efforts on my own intellectual property and efforts. I'll write an epilogue to explain how I envisioned their future together, but ultimately the tale of the Witch and the Warden is complete.

**Updates:**

2/25/2013

I updated the blurb for Chapter 28. The new blurb implies that the story is over, which it sort of is, and that I won't really continue it, which I won't. But I'm not quite done yet. I am satisfied with the ending, but there are places that I would like to explore in the middle. To do that, I think I'm probably going to branch off and publish it as a separate story. For now I'll upload it as a chapter in the main story so those that only followed this story and not me will be able to find it, and later I'll move it into a story of its own. I'll include a link here once I've published it. I haven't yet decided yet whether I will fill in other gaps in my main story. There are still a lot of unanswered questions, and I may revisit them. So, that said, I am about to post the first actual NEW chapter I've written in nearly a year. As promised, this will be a new plot arc-sort of. I'm going to fill in some of the gaps between when Aedan woke up, and when he arrives again on Morrigan's figurative doorstep to rescue her and his daughter from the Chantry. Morrigan was not the only woman to love the Warden. There was another, whom he pushed aside in order to pursue the one he did love. Leliana was always there for him, despite the cost to herself, and even if he never realized. This story will be about that relationship: just slightly, uncomfortably, more than a friendship, but infinitely less than more than that. This is a story about what might have been, but never was, and never can be. How far would you go to be only friends?

2/21/2013

Alright guys, I know I broke a lot of promises by not updating here in the last three months, and I'm very sorry for it. I have gotten your PMs, and I apologize for not responding to them. I still owe an update here on this update thread about the last piece I uploaded, and I still intend to backfill the timeline. But first, exciting news! I'm working on another section. Sadly, this section won't include any Warden/Morrigan action, but Leliana will be coming back, and boy does she not realize how much she still loves the Warden. This will be set during the time between when Aedan escapes from the Fade and comes looking for Morrigan.

Again, I apologize for the lack of updates on here. Several readers PM's me and asked for more, and I didn't even reply, because I have been in a pretty busy place in my life. I have just finished at the community college I attend (or will finish shortly), and have been accepted to Whitworth University in Spokane. I will quit my job here in California in June, goof off most of the summer, and move out there in time for classes in the fall. This means that I will likely have some more time for my writing, which I have been neglecting terribly. In a previous update I mentioned that there is a lot more of the story to tell, and that part remains true, even if my dedication to tell it has fallen off somewhat recently. I know that I said I was coming back before, but I think I probably mean it this time, as I have already written several hundred new words.

The question I have for all of you is this: do you want me to publish as I go, understanding that what you are looking at will essentially be rough drafts, rather than final drafts (most of my writing was finished long before I started uploading here; all I did was edit them), or would you prefer I wait and don't do anything until I polish. In the latter case, it would probably mean I don't publish anything until at least six weeks have gone by. I find that it takes at least six weeks to let a piece of writing sit (especially one that is emotionally important to me) before I can look at it with enough dispassion to ruthlessly edit it if I think it needs work. If I publish the rougher drafts, I will need to be constantly replacing them. With software, there are two ways of doing this. I can either just upload the new story and publish as a replacement of an existing chapter, or I can delete the old chapter and post it as if it were "new." If I do the first one, nobody will be alerted when I post a new draft, and you would have to manually troll my writing to look for the differences. If I do the second one, you all who have followed my story will probably get far more alerts than you would like, and I would be unfairly "bumping" my story up the recency list, giving me comparatively more traffic. I prefer the latter, mostly because I'm a sucker for traffic, but if I were a reader I would personally prefer to get some sort of alert if a new draft was pushed out. In the absence of PMs expressing an opinion one way or the other, I will opt to publish the rougher drafts and accept the fact that I will generate some spam and artificial stat padding. If you don't speak up but decide you don't like what I'm doing, PLEASE PM me and ask me to stop before you unfavorite. I would rather slow down the publishing than drive even a single person away from my work due to what they considered spam.

As always, I appreciate the comments, both as PMs and reviews. The more I hear from you, especially if you liked my work and maybe followed it but never posted a review, the more motivated I am to do this. It makes me feel really good when someone makes it clear that I'm not the only one who this work is important to. I finished enough of the story to make myself emotionally whole a long time ago. Everything else I put on paper here is for you.

11/20/2012

So I haven't been updating very much recently, and I didn't update the chapter introductions on this page for my last post. Today I am rectifying that, as well as let everyone know I've got a big chapter incoming. This next chapter will probably be the final piece of this story, at least chronologically. That doesn't mean that I'll be done; there are a lot of gaps that I would like to fill in, and there is another related project I will be starting somewhat soon as well. In addition, there is a surprise in the pipe down the road, but that's getting ahead of myself. For now, just know that I will be posting a new chapter before the end of Thanksgiving Weekend. If I get enough new visitors I'll post early, so tell all your friends who you think might like my writing!

9/25/2012

Someone new added my story as a favorite today, so I'm going to post a new chapter. It's a short one.

9/12/2012

As you may have noticed, I posted a lot of chapters in the past few days. I'll work on getting the timeline updated to help everyone keep it all straight. My thanks to those of you who noticed that I had an error and had double-posted Chapter 16 instead of posting Chapter 15. "A Winter Birth" is now posted correctly.

This was the bulk of my finished content, though there are a few more chapters to publish. I have accomplished the goals I set out to accomplish, as the Warden and Morrigan have a proper resolution. However, there is a lot more that I would like to tell. The more feedback I get the more motivated I will be to tell it. I know a lot of you have questions about the story, and I encourage them! It helps me determine what needs to be written.

As long as people are interested in reading it, I will continue to expand the story. I hope that my work has been enjoyable to the community so far, and I appreciate your continued support.

8/30/2012

Heading to PAX this weekend, so no more updates for a week or so. Rest assured, I haven't even posted half of the chapters I already have written, so there is plenty more content coming. Most of them don't need too much editing, so there should be at least half a dozen chapters posted in the next week or two after PAX.


	31. HFWYG Ch1: I

Aedan awoke gradually. Slowly, he became aware of his room in one of the towers in Denerim. From what he could tell, the curtains must be drawn, as it was quite dark. He inhaled. His body ached. He was not really how long he had been stuck in the Fade, but it must have been a long time based on how he felt. He felt bruised, and was quite sure that he must have terrible bedsores.

_No matter. I can heal, now that I'm back. I have so much to do._

Leliana carefully carried the tray of soup. She had carried trays just like it up the stairs, one by one, day by day, for months now, hoping that today would be the day that the Warden would open his eyes. She had been praying for it for so long that when she opened the door to find a surprised and curious Aedan buckling his belt she dropped the tray in uncharacteristic clumsiness.

"Aedan! You're…you're.." _Alive? _

"Looks like." He nodded, understanding with that small smile of his. "You dropped something." He stated the fact with a teasing simplicity that made Leliana's heart flutter. Closing her mouth, Leliana flipped her hair unconsciously out of her eyes and stammered embarrassedly.

"I..was bringing you food. Because I thought you would be hungry. I mean I hoped you would be hungry. I mean, I.." _Damn, you, you silly girl! You wait for years for this moment, and you sit here stammering like a little girl?_

She stopped speaking, and blushed awkwardly. This was not how she had imagined her first meeting with the Warden since he had left so many years before. She had stayed away during the second war, as she had unfinished business in Orlais that could not wait. At least that's why she told herself she had stayed away. But deep down, she knew the truth. She had stayed away because seeing him again, being near him again, would have been too painful to her. The Warden had chosen Morrigan over her, but that did not stop her from loving him.

Aedan finished buckling her belt, but she could feel him still looking at her. Eventually, she forced herself to meet his eyes. _Does he realize how I still feel?_ His expression revealed nothing. It often didn't, when he was thinking.

"How long have I been…?" He eventually asked, pursing his lips, unable to describe exactly what state he'd been in until just a few moments before.

"Stuck?" Leliana offered?

"Gone."

Leliana tilted her head slightly. There wasn't much of a distinction between what she'd said and his correction, but there was a difference. "Stuck" implied that he was there as a prisoner, against his will. "Gone" could mean many things, but prisoner was not one of them. She began to think that this had been a very bad idea indeed.

"That long?" he asked softly after a moment, the answer clear in her lack of response.

"Yes. After…" she cleared her throat gently, determined not to let her emotions get the best of her, at least not yet, "You've been like that for nearly a year."

Aedan nodded slowly. "A year. She'd be nearly two then," he muttered, nearly quiet enough that Leliana didn't hear.

"Sorry?" she said, wishing she could unhear what he'd said.

"Plenty of time, then," he continued, louder and surer of himself.

She didn't bother asking him to explain. Leliana's shoulders sagged slightly, and for a moment she was too upset to try to hide it, but he was too absorbed to notice. She'd seen him like this before. He meant to go after Morrigan. Again. She'd waited all this time, and in vain. She felt the dam of emotions crack, and everything she'd kept bottled up these last several years came flooding back. She was right; this had been a terrible idea. She'd been so silly to think that if she tried to be there for him he would change his mind and choose her. He was going to choose to chase the ghost of his past love, and if she let herself get caught up in this now, only heartache and pain could follow. For him, and for her.

Aedan finally noticed that she was not her normal cheerful self.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked gently, walking towards her, concern in his eyes. It took everything she had, but Leliana forced herself to ignore the concern, and the color of his eyes and the shape of his shoulders as he brushed the hair off of her forehead. Knowing that she couldn't keep it up much longer, Leliana threw her arms around him.

"I'm just so glad that you are back, Aedan. We've missed you terribly." I've_ missed you terribly…._

Aedan recovered from his surprise quickly, and hugged her back. Leliana felt like Orlaisan daggers were carving her heart to pieces. _I should never have come back_, she thought for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of a few minutes. She had wished for so long that those arms would hold her again, and hold her with the love she felt, rather than merely in friendship. She had never told Aedan just how badly she had fallen for him, and had chosen the emotional torture of friendship rather than give him up completely once he had made his decision. _Not that it was ever really a contest_, she thought glumly. He'd loved the Witch from the moment he laid eyes on her. Still, she had really thought it would be different now.

"There's lots of work to be done, Lel. I have so much to do before I can go after her again. You're with me, right? I won't be able to do this alone."

She nodded slowly into his shoulder. "Of course, Aedan." _Always…_ She would help him, because she would always help him. She would never tell him, because she could never tell him. Leliana closed her eyes hard against the tears, but as always, she could not hold them back, and as the man she loved stood there holding the woman he thought was merely his friend, down her cheeks and into his shirt they came.


End file.
